


Somewhere I Belong

by Eelsbane



Category: Rookie Blue
Genre: Angst, Drama, F/M, Firefighters, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-25 10:17:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 46,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eelsbane/pseuds/Eelsbane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Andy is accused of a crime she did not commit, it's up to Sam and the rest of fifteen division to prove her innocence before it is too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Burn it Down

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic, let me know what you think! But please no flames. I wrote it for the best ladies in the whole world, Mrs. Butter and the Casserole Goddess. Mrs. Butter the Firefighter scene is for you ;)
> 
> I do not own any of this and I have no money so please don't sue me.

Home. Andy breathed deeply the familiar scent of vanilla candles and Mr. Clean and smiled. Five months had felt longer than she ever imagined. But they'd got them. Six scumbags and 30 million dollars in marijuana off the street. It had definitely been worth it. Or so she told herself. There was a churning in her stomach that said otherwise.

Tomorrow she would be back at fifteen division. The thought made her want to run for the hills.

_I love you_. He'd said the words. Though she had half convinced herself she'd dreamed them. They had certainly featured in her dreams on a nightly basis since then. Well.. when she wasn’t having _that_ dream. The weirdly specific reoccurring one that had started a few weeks ago and would not let up. But that was not the point. The point was tomorrow she would see him for the first time since she had disappeared without so much as a goodbye and she was terrified.

There really was only one thing she could do. She turned the oven to 375 F and pulled out her bright yellow That's a Bowl, a house warming gift from Claire. There was a pound of butter in the freezer. Andy unwrapped it,. humming to herself as she dumped the creamy block into the bowl. She placed the bowl in the microwave, set it to low, and hit quick minute. It took about three minutes, but then the butter was soft enough to work with. She added two teaspoons of vanilla.

Just as she was reaching for the refrigerator to grad a couple of eggs her phone rang. Sighing, Andy abandoned her baking and began the hunt for her cell phone. She got to it just before the voice mail kicked in. "Hello?"

"It _is_ true!" Traci's voice was high pitched with excitement.

"Trace! Oh my _God_ it's good to hear your voice." Andy tucked the phone into the crook of her shoulder and made her way back to the kitchen.

"I can't believe you're finally home." Traci gushed. "When are you back to work?"

"Tomorrow." Andy carefully measured out a cup of brown sugar and added it to the bowl.

"Nervous?" Tracy asked.

Andy turned on her electric mixers and began blending the ingredients. "A little. It's going to be weird seeing.. everyone."

"You mean Swarek?" Tracy asked, picking up on the pause.

"Sometimes I wish you didn't know me quite so well." Andy said, pouting a little. "I haven't' seen him since... "she trailed off, realizing that Tracy didn't know what Sam had said to her. No one did.

"I'm sure he'll be glad to see you." Tracy said confidently.

Andy shrugged, switching off the beaters and reaching for a bag of milk chocolate chips. "I don't know, Trace... I mean I didn't even say goodbye."

Tracy made an exasperated noise. "You were going on a task force. If anyone is going to understand it's Sam. I mean it's not like he hasn't picked up and left in the middle of the night before."

Andy laughed a little at that. "That's true. But I'm still making his favourite cookies."

"Andy, are you and Sam...?" Tracy's voice was excited.

Andy groaned. "I don't know. It's been five months."

"He isn't seeing anyone... I don't think." Tracy supplied helpfully.

Andy smiled. "Well. We'll see what happens tomorrow." She scooped a dozen cookies onto a baking sheet and slid them into the oven. "How are you?"

Tracy launched into an update on her life. She wasn't ready to start dating yet, but Leo was home and she was sleeping through the night again. It wasn't quite 'normal' but she was starting to heal. "I don't even look for him when I walk into the station anymore."

Andy curled up on her couch, making sympathetic noises at the appropriate moments, but mostly just listening as Traci poured out her thoughts.

"Hey, Andy?"  Tracy said, her tone suddenly hesitant.

"Yeah?"

"Do you still have that sweater I loaned you?"

Andy had to think for a few minutes before she knew what Tracy was talking about. "The Leaf's hoodie?"

"Yeah."

Andy stood up and walked towards her bedroom. "I'm sure it's in here somewhere." She had a vague picture in her brain of the over-sized Toronto Maple Leafs' hoodie she'd borrowed from Tracy months ago because she was freezing cold in Tracy and Jerry's new apartment. Suddenly she realized why Tracy was probably asking and felt like an idiot. "Was it Jerry's?"

Tracy's voice was a little choked. "Yeah. I just..." She took a deep shuddering breath. "Nothing here smells like him anymore. I just thought..."

"I don't think I washed it." Andy supplied . For once her less than perfect housekeeping skills were working in her favour. "I'll find it and bring it to the station tomorrow, okay?"

"Thanks Andy. I’ll see you tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow."  Andy said, disconnecting the call. She tossed her phone on the bed and began rummaging through her closet. She had just found it when she smelled smoke. "Oh shit! The cookies!" Clutching the hoodie in one hand, Andy sprinted out to the kitchen which was rapidly filling with acrid black smoke.

She reached for her fire extinguisher, only to remember she hadn't taken it to get refilled since the time she'd set that cake on fire. "Fuck!" Flames licked out from her oven, catching the towels she had hanging there and spreading quickly.

Her training kicking in, Andy did what she knew she had to and ran out into the hall to pull the building's fire alarm and then made her way  outside, Jerry's hoodie still clutched in one hand.

***

Thirty third station was having a quiet Thursday night. There'd been a cat in a tree at two in the afternoon and a fender bender involving a 911-happy senior at four and otherwise the guys had been passing the time the way they usually did: strip poker.

"Read 'em an weep, gentlemen." Brody said laying down his cards with a flourish. His burnished muscles rippled with even that small movement.

"Christ, Brody! What did you do, hide the Ace in your tighty whiteys?" Ethan stood, prepared to bare it all. His tanned skin was dappled with goosebumps and he tried not to think too much about what the cold air would do to other parts of his body which would soon be exposed for all to see.

Adam eyed Ethan's perfectly honed six pack hungrily. It was times like this he was glad he hadn't told his workmates the truth. If they knew, or even suspected, he was currently imagining what Ethan would look like smeared in maple syrup, imagining his tongue lapping the sticky sweet gloop off of that perfect, hard flesh, they would beat the shit out of him. And worse than that, there would definitely be less strip poker.

And since some days it took the mental image of a sudsy rivulet cascading over Ethan's perfectly sculpted ass as he washed away the soot after a rescue to get Adam out of bed in the morning - or to sleep at night- no strip poker would be a very bad thing.

"You going to deal or what?" Brody tilted his handsome head to one side, eyeing Adam curiously. Brody had lost his shirt early in the game, but somehow managed not to lose much else. Well... there'd been both his boots, and his left sock, but nothing that increased his nudity meaningfully. Which was a damn shame if you asked Adam, the man made Ethan look positively tiny in the penis department. And he knew how to use all nine inches to great effect.

Adam rolled his lips together, wetting them with his tongue. He was pretty sure Brody didn't remember that night. He had been incredibly drunk. But oh GOD that had been a good night. Adam thanked his lucky stars he was still wearing his coat so no one could see the growing hardness in his trousers. He wasn't sure how he'd ended up at the same station as half the men in this year's charity calendar, but it was a blessing and a curse. His hands bridged the deck effortlessly as his mind worked on removing Brody's trousers, unveiling the perfect cock, jutting proudly from a dark thatch of hair. He dealt the hands while he imagined his own hands wrapping around Brody's hardness, silky soft, hard as iron, hot and perfect. He would stroke it just so, watching Brody's eyes flutter shut, his head fall back, silky brown hair falling away from his high forehead, Body's hands would twist through Adam's hair, urging him downwards. Adam would kneel before him and slowly, so fucking slowly, take the whole length of Brody into his mouth. Brody tasted like nothing Adam had ever had before. Salty and sweet and manly. Adam's cock jumped in his trousers.

A shrill alarm broke the relative silence of the station and suddenly the room erupted into action. Cards were tossed on the table, mostly naked men scrambled to get back into their gear, cursing their luck. Why of why did some fucker have to start a fire tonight? They were off in four hours.

Adam rose with some difficulty. His erection was not deflated by the shock of the alarm, or the mental cold water he tried to splash on his arousal.

Suddenly Brody grabbed his arm and dragged him around the side of the truck. "We're up front" He yelled to the other guys, pushing Adam into the passenger's seat. The rest of the men piled into the back, still buttoning and zipping themselves into full firefighting gear.

Adam leaned his head against the seat rest, taking deep breaths and telling his body to get into work mode.

When Brody's hand reached over and flicked open his fly he almost yelped in shock. He turned to look at his partner, but Brody's eyes were fixed out front, his left hand flipped the switch for the alarm and then returned to the wheel as his right dragged down Adam's zipper, slid inside Adam's boxers, and wrapped itself around Adam's cock.

Adam closed his eyes and focused on the skilled movement of Brody's strong fingers as they squeezed and stroked his cock. It wasn't long before he felt the tightening in his balls and with a barely audibly groan he came, hot spurts of semen making it no further than the cotton of his boxers and then trickling down his thigh. He zipped himself up hastily, just as Brody pulled the truck against the curb of an apartment building. Adam could see flames licking out from one of the windows and as much as he wanted to pull Brody aside and demand an explanation, he forced his brain into work mode.

It took the crew less than an hour to put out the fire, but the unit, and the one below it were destroyed.

****

"Is there someone we can call for you?"

Andy looked up at the tall, handsome fire fighter. There were lines of soot on his chiseled face and she felt a hot wave of embarrassment. She couldn't believe she'd nearly burnt down her own building. "Uh.. um... no." She stammered. She knew she had to call someone, she couldn't very well sleep on the street in a tank top, jeans and sock feet. It was April, but the nights were still chilly.

"Are you sure? You won't be allowed back into the building until ..." The firefighter continued talking, but Andy wasn't listening any more.

She'd seen a familiar face across the parking lot, and if she'd thought she was embarrassed thirty seconds ago, it was nothing to how she felt now. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. "Sam?" She half whispered his name, willing him to be a mirage.

He wasn't. And he was headed towards her at a jog, a very familiar worried look on his handsome face. "Andy?" He called out when he was still a few feet away.

She tried to force a smile, but it felt very weak.

He closed the distance between them, placing both hands on her shoulders as if to pull her into a hug before thinking better of it. He dropped his arms awkwardly. "Are you okay?"

She nodded. "I'm fine."

"We heard about the fire on the radio.." He gestured in the general direction of his cruiser, pulled half into a parking spot, lights flashing. She could see Gail helping the fire fighters cordon off the building and saw another cruiser pull into the lot.

"Come on," Sam placed a hand on the small of her back and steered her towards his cruiser. Andy followed without protest, her brain was reeling too fast for her to protest as he opened the passenger side door and gestured for her to get in.

She clutched Jerry's hoodie against her chest and watched as Sam navigated the chaos in  front of her building to get to his partner. They talked for a few moments, Gail squeezed his arm and smiled and Andy felt her gut churn enviously. And then he was jogging back to the car.

 It wasn't until he'd pulled out onto the street that she found her voice. "where are we going?" She asked.

"My place." He said, not taking his eyes off the road. "You need a place to stay. I have a spare room." His voice was casual, but his hands on the steering wheel were tense, as if he was preparing for a fight.

"Okay." Andy said, nodding. "Thank you, Sam."

 


	2. Breaking the Habit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy and Sam need to talk, but they are interrupted by the last person Andy wants to see.

Gail had just pulled out onto Spadina when dispatch called for a car to do crowd control at the site of a fire.

"Is that...?" Gail's face looked a little paler than usual as she turned to glance at Sam.

"Andy's building." He confirmed, his lips pressed into a thin line even as he flipped on the lights and sirens. He grabbed the radio and reported that they were en route. His heart thudded in his chest.

The last he'd heard, the task force had made six arrests last week and the officers involved were expected back any day now. He wasn't sure if his rapid pulse was hope that Andy was there, fear she might be hurt, or worry that she would come back from the task force to a burnt out shell of an apartment.

He barely waited for the cruiser to come to a full stop before leaping out, scanning the chaotic crowd gathered in front of the apartment building in various states of undress. When he saw her he had to pinch his arm to make sure he wasn't hallucinating. But no, she was there, staring at the building, looking a little dazed. A blue sweatshirt dangled from one arm and he wondered why she didn't put it on. She had to be freezing in just blue jeans and a white tank top.

She turned towards the fire fighter standing at her elbow and her eyes locked with his. He saw her mouth his name, and without even thinking he took off at a jog. He needed to be next to her. He needed to reassure himself that she was really here, really okay.

"Andy?" Her name tasted sweetly familiar on his lips, like a favourite delicacy too long denied.

She flushed red and dropped her eyes for a moment.

His heart clenched. Suddenly remembering how they had left things. Somehow over five months the unbearable pain and awkwardness of the last year had faded under the power of his love for her, but here it was, in the tentativeness of her smile and the shiftiness of her gaze. She remembered it all.

It was the hesitancy in her gaze that stopped him just short of pulling her against his chest, though his every instinct was screaming to wrap her in his arms and never let her go. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, his hands on her shoulders before dropping his hands and asking inanely, "are you okay?"

He barely heard her response. He couldn't stop staring at her, cataloging the little changes. there was a new scar on her shoulder, her bangs had grown out, there was an unfamiliar furrow in her brow, and her lower lip was chapped, as if she'd spent most of the last five months worrying at it with her teeth - for all he knew, she had. 

He didn't ask her what she wanted. His brain was in crisis management mode. the rescue-Andy instinct overriding common sense or courtesy. Thankfully she didn't seem to mind. When she was securely settled in the cruiser he went in search of Gail.

"How's Andy?" She asked as soon as he was within range.

"Her apartment's gone, but she's not hurt."

Gail nodded. "You're taking her home?"

Sam shrugged. He hadn't really thought that far. The mental image was far from unpleasant though. Andy in his home again. Sleeping in his guest bed. Making use of the things of hers he hadn't been able to bring himself to throw out - her tooth brush, a light grey knit sweater, a pair of yoga pants, the bright red coffee mug he'd bought her without ever telling her it was for her.

"She needs to stay somewhere." Gail said when Sam didn't reply. "May as well be your apartment. Sure as hell isn't going to be mine. Nick is crashing on the pull out until he finds a new place so we're full up."

Sam nodded. "You okay here?"

Gail smiled, "Already called for backup. I'm sure Frank won't mind if you take off half an hour early." 

***

Sam's place was exactly how Andy remembered it. Right down to the vintage Les Paul in the corner, half hidden behind the couch because he hated people making a fuss over how well he played it. Not like Nick who would whip his out at a moment's notice. Not that she objected to being serenaded by a gorgeous man in army fatigues and dog tags. There was something so inexplicably hot about dog tags. She didn't even question why Nick continued wearing them after he left the military. Not when he was strumming away, crooning about his broken heart and staring right through her soul. It had taken all her will power not to fuck him right then and there. Not that she would ever tell Gail or Sam that.

After all, it wasn't like she's gone through with the thought... She flushed a little. it had been a persistent fantasy though. When she wasn't dreaming troubling dreams of Sam telling her he loved her right before the grenade went off in her hands, or of searching through a dark, horribly familiar basement for Sam, hearing gun shots and having him tell her he loved her just before bleeding out in her arms, she was dreaming of Nick, singing and strumming away until she threw the guitar across the room and attacked him with tongue and teeth and agile fingers.

Sam was hovering just behind her. She could feel his warmth and half of her wanted to just lean into it and forget everything, but she wasn't the same girl, and they weren't the same as they had been. There were things to be talked about before anything could happen. Oh how she wished they didn't need to have 'the talk' but she knew if she gave in to her own desires there were only two outcomes. Either he shared her desires and they would end up in bed without ever discussing anything that had gone on before, and in one month, or three, he would leave her again,  or he was seeing someone else and he really was only putting her up because her apartment was gone and he had a spare room, and he would push her away and then EVERYTHING between them would be ruined. So 'the talk' it was. She needed a drink.

"Beer?" Sam offered, as if he'd read her mind.

"Yes please." She smiled at him.

Sam led the way to the kitchen and Andy followed a few steps behind, trying not to stare at his ass. She wasn't sure it was possible, but it was even more luscious than she remembered. she licked her lips unconsciously while forcing her mind to go over the list of reasons why pinning him against the wall and suckling on one of his luscious eyebrows was a terrible idea.

He did have such incredibly manly brows. Like a younger, sexier Peter Gallagher. She remembered watching While You Were Sleeping as a kid and wondered how she'd never realized before that Sam was an almost perfect blend of Peter and Jack. Peter's sexy eyebrows, and heart stopping smile; Jack's completely squeezable ass, and loyal personality. And she could not jump him until they'd talked. No matter how wet her panties got listening to his voice, watching his eyebrows... imagining what he looked like beneath the uniform...

"Red or White?" Sam asked holding out two bottles of Rickard's.  

Andy blushed. "White." She couldn't believe he still had Rickard's in his fridge. She knew he was more of a Mill Street guy, but she'd always loved a Rickard's White in the summer.

He twisted the top off and handed the bottle to her before taking a seat at the table. "Are you sure you're okay?" He asked, his dark eyes warm against her skin.

Andy took a swig of beer. Honestly she didn't know what she was. She'd been back for less than a day and already everything was ruined. The McNally touch. "I'm... fine." She  said taking the chair across from Sam.

"Your apartment burned down." Sam was giving her a look that clearly said he didn't buy her answer.

Andy shrugged. "I know... I don't know."  She drained the rest of the bottle in two swallows. "Can we talk about something else?"

Sam nodded. "Sure."

For a few minutes the kitchen was silent except for the ticking of the second hand on the clock. Andy picked at the label on her empty bottle, peeling it back bit by bit, a nervous habit she can't seem to suppress.

"Another?" Sam asked, breaking the awkward silence.

Andy nodded, wondering what was wrong with them. They'd never had trouble talking before. Well... except the night she'd returned after suspension. That night Sam had been furious at her. When he handed her another beer she deliberately brushed her fingers against his. When his gaze met hers she held it, "I'm sorry I ran off without talking to you... again." She said,

Sam didn't say anything, he just stepped back until he was leaning against the counter, not breaking eye contact, as if he were waiting for her to continue.

"Luke said I had to leave right away, and then they took our phones, and everything was so busy..." She trailed off, feeling useless. She took a gulp of beer for courage and barreled on. If he wasn't going to speak she would just have to apologize until he forgave her or kicked her out to spend the night on the street. "I know I should have called. But I didn't know what to say to you. I love you, but you broke my- "

"Andy." Sam's voice sounded pained.

"- heart. And I know it's been five months and you have no reason to have waited for me, but I waited for you--"

"Andy!" Sam was suddenly right in front of her, his hands on her face, brushing back her hair, cradling her cheek. And then his lips were on hers, stopping any more words from escaping. And all Andy could think was that his timing was perfect, she didn't have any more words to say.

Andy wanted nothing more than to lose herself in Sam’s kiss. His lips on hers felt so deliciously familiar, and yet so much _better_ than she remembered. But she’d promised herself they would do things differently this time. The last two times they’d fallen into bed right away and then she’d run away. Clearly that pattern wasn’t working.

She pressed one hand gently against his chest and turned her head, “Sam.” Her voice came out breathy and lust filled, and not at all convicted. But it did the trick.

Sam pulled back, his hands dropped slowly from her hair, twisting the long strands around his fingers before finally letting go and rising to his feet. "I'm sorry." He said, not meeting her eyes.

Andy reached for his hand, just catching his fingers with hers. "No.. it's not that." She said, desperate to make him understand how badly she wanted him.

He stopped and didn't pull his hand away, but he also didn't say a word.

"We just..." Andy felt like an idiot even as the words left her mouth. "We always do this. And it never works. I think we need to talk before we...." She flushed a little.

Sam grabbed the closest chair and pulled it over so he could sit without releasing her hand. "Okay." He said, giving her an encouraging look.

“I missed you.” Andy said simply. She’d expected the words to be hard to say, she’d never been particularly good at sharing her feelings, especially with Sam. He was always so closed off and guarded that she wasn’t sure where she stood. Even when he’d told her he loved her, she wasn’t sure it was for real, or because he realized he might lose her in the permanent sense.

Sam’s lips quirked slightly. “I missed you too.”

Andy’s heart contracted. “You did?”

“Of course I did.” He answered.

Andy smiled. “Are you—?”

Her question was cut off by a loud knock at the door. Sam smiled apologetically in her direction and got to his feet.

Andy watched him go, this time not fighting her eyes’ desire to mentally undress him as he went. She took a swig of beer, her left thumb idly picking at the label around the neck. She could hear faint voices at the other end of the hall, but didn’t pay any attention. Her mind was too consumed with the question she’d been in the middle of asking. It was an important one, and one she’d been dreading for six months. Had Sam waited for her even though she hadn’t told him she was leaving, or that she loved him back?

“Andy,” Sam’s voice was unusually soft.

Andy looked up and nearly dropped the bottle in her hands.

Standing just behind Sam, her blonde hair gently curling around her chin, setting off her blue eyes perfectly, was Jo Rosati. 


	3. A Place to Rest My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And and Sam learn the reason for Jo's unwelcome intrusion.

Sam opened the door without bothering to look through the peep hole. Gail had made a habit of stopping by at random over the last few months. She usually brought a case of beer and would happily camp out on his couch and watch whatever was on the TV, she said even Hockey Night in Canada was a nice break from the insanity that was her apartment, though that didn’t stop her from loudly insulting every one of Don Cherry’s suits. Sam suspected she was just missing Nick and avoiding Chris, but he didn’t really mind. His own life had been feeling increasingly empty as the months without Andy ticked by. At least Gail’s sarcastic commentary kept the regrets at bay. 

It was not Gail on his porch, however. It was Jo Rosati and a pair of uniformed officers Sam didn’t recognize.

“Can I help you?” Sam asked, a sinking feeling in his gut.

“Is McNally here?” Jo asked, her businesslike tone reminding Sam why he’d never really warmed to her.

He nodded. “Yeah. What’s going on?”

“There was a fire at her building today. I need to bring her in for questioning.”

Sam could feel his eyebrows creeping up towards his hairline. "Why?" He knew his tone was hostile, but he couldn't help it. Andy had been through more than enough today, he wasn't about to let Jo Rosati throw her in the back of a squad car without an explanation first.

Jo gave him an appraising look and then turned to one of the officers, "Can you give us a minute?"

The guy, tall and blonde with a luxurious mustache that would have made even Tom Selleck jealous nodded, and gestured for his partner to follow him. When they were several meters away, Jo began to speak.

"Fire Marshall ruled the fire suspicious. It will take a day or two for them to finish their investigation, but Frank wanted us to get on this before they do."

Sam crossed his arms over his chest, unimpressed. "That doesn't explain why you need to take her in."

"Look Swarek, I know she's the wind beneath your wings, but to the rest of the world she's a cop who just worked on the biggest bust of the year - a bust the white shirts are hoping to cash in for some decent publicity for once. If the press gets wind of the fact that one of our cops set fire to her own apartment building and we just let her walk around free because we didn't want to hurt her feelings, how much good press do you think that will generate?"

Sam clenched his teeth. "Andy didn't start that fire."

"Did she tell you that?" Jo asked.

"She doesn't have to." Sam had never hit a woman. He’d never even wanted to, not after what had happened to Sarah when they were kids. But today, Jo’s confident smirk as she told him Andy was going to be dragged through the hell of an official interview on the day her apartment burned down just because she happened to live near the point of ignition made him understand the urge. Hadn’t Andy been through enough?  He thought of her, sitting at his kitchen table, telling him she missed him. Her eyes had been full of the most delicate thing in the world: hope. He’d wanted to tell her right then and there that he still loved her, but instead he’d echoed her words.

Sam had never thought of himself as a coward, but when it came to telling that intelligent, intoxicating, infuriating woman how he felt, he somehow ended up tongue-tied every time. He had never been in love. Sure, as a teen he'd mistaken lust for love more than once, but he knew now that lust was all those feelings had been. They were nothing to the absolute torture of loving Andy. It was torture. Exquisite torture. But torture all the same. When he thought she was in danger he couldn't think. When she wanted to do something he couldn't help but follow blindly behind her. He knew he had wounded her when he told her he didn't think he could be a cop and be with her. He'd been an idiot to think he could be a better cop without her. Sure, he'd been a more rational cop before he'd known Andy McNally existed, but now that he'd had her, he could no more live his life without her in it than he could walk without his legs, or fly without the help of an airplane. She was in his very soul. And even when her presence was more like shrapnel than a soothing balm, she was a part of him and he would never let her get away again.

Jo looked at him strangely. "Riiight. Well, I still need to bring her in. And if you don't let me, I will have those gentlemen arrest you for obstruction. Which will go on the books. I'd rather avoid that, wouldn't you?"

"None of this goes on the books." Sam said, giving her a hard look. Andy's career meant everything to her. He, more than anyone, knew that. She had chosen her career over him twice in the last eighteen months. The realization twisted a knife in his gut; He may love Andy McNally, but that didn't mean she loved him back. No matter what she said out loud. He supposed that was the price he paid for falling for a woman almost ten years his junior. While Sam was almost ready to admit he wanted to settle down, build a life, even if the idea scared him to no end, Andy was in the stage of life where six months was forever, and marriage was that thing in the future that would tie her down. He remembered being in his mid-twenties. It had been all sex and booze and using the badge for all its advantages. If someone had told his twenty-six year old self that he would be contemplating marriage in ten years' time, he would have told the bartender to cut them off.

Jo shrugged. "Fine by me. We'll enter her in as a witness.. for now."

Sam nodded. He still wasn't happy, but he knew that trying to stop Jo from taking Andy would only make everything worse, so he stepped back and let Jo follow him into the house. He paused in the kitchen doorway. Andy was staring vacantly into space, her fingers picking away at the label on the bottle in her hand. She looked so young and vulnerable and lost. All he wanted to do was take her in his arms and tell her he never wanted her to leave. But instead he cleared his throat and called her name in a strangled voice he didn't recognize, "Andy?"

She looked up with a smile, which died the moment her eyes found Jo.

***

What the _fuck_ is she doing here? Andy's brain couldn't seem to move past that question as she stared blankly at the blonde woman in the doorway.  "Detective," she said in a strange, stilted voice. One she had only ever used with ex-boyfriends and her mother.

"I'm sorry about this," Jo said, glancing at Sam's tense form before returning her gaze to Andy, "but I need you to come in and answer some questions about the fire this afternoon."

Andy felt like she'd been kicked in the gut by a donkey on uppers. "You... what? Why?" She realized she sounded defensive, but she couldn't help it. Hadn't she been through enough today?

Jo's polite smile disappeared into a thin red line. When she spoke again the veneer of politeness was gone and she was back to the cold, calculating woman who had accused Andy of holding Luke in a death grip just weeks before she fucked him in a cheap hotel room. This was the Jo Andy had learned to loathe. "Your apartment was set on fire today, deliberately. You can come in willingly as a witness, or I will arrest you as a suspect." the _and you can kiss your career goodbye_ on the end of the sentence dangled in the air between them.

Andy set the beer bottle down on the table with a little too much force and rose to her feet. "I'll come in, but Sam is driving me." She may not have control over much today, but she sure as hell wasn't getting in a car with the woman who had broken up her engagement. Even if she admitted to herself now that she'd never really loved Luke. Sure, she'd loved the idea of Luke, of her and Luke, of getting married to a Detective and settling down with the white picket fence and 2.5 kids. And it had hurt like hell when he'd cheated on her. Mostly because it gave her pride whiplash. But pain was pain, and she wasn't above blaming that pain entirely on the conniving bitch standing in front of her, threatening to take her to jail and destroy her career. But she hadn't loved him. Not like she loved Sam. Sam was her soul mate. She just wished he realized it.

Jo looked for a moment like she was going to argue, but a quick glance at Sam, who had crossed his arms over his chest and was giving her a look that told her he was losing patience, changed her mind. "Fine." she snapped. "If you're more than twenty minutes behind us I'm getting an arrest warrant."

"We'll be right behind you." Sam said, his eyes narrowed.

"Good." Jo flashed them both a perfunctory smile and then turned and disappeared down the hall.

Before the front door slammed shut behind her, Sam was at Andy's side. "Are you okay?" He asked, his voice warm.

Andy sighed. "Fine. Let's just get this over with."

Sam brushed a strand of hair out of her face. "That's my girl." He said softly, like a caress.

Andy leaned into his touch for a moment, she could feel his breath on her forehead and knew if she flicked her eyes up she would drown in his gaze. She wished for nothing more than to be able to finish their talk so they could get on to _other things_. But the talk would have to wait. "Can I borrow a coat?" She asked, breaking the intimate moment.

Sam stepped back, dropping his hand. "Yeah. Of course."

He disappeared for a moment and Andy took the time to gather her wits. This was going to be an incredibly awkward conversation, she needed her full mental faculties. By the time Sam returned with a spare jacket that would drown her slender frame, but also keep out the evening chill, Andy was ready to face the music.

***

This was not how Andy had imagined her return to fifteen division. Sam led the way to the interrogation room, keeping an eye out lest anyone notice Andy trailing in his wake and decide to get curious. The last thing she needed was the whole division knowing she was being questioned about an arson case the day she returned from the task force.

Andy took deep breaths, taking in Sam's familiar scent from the borrowed jacket. It grounded her and helped to still the nervous flutter in her stomach. She hadn't done anything wrong, but somehow she was afraid that wouldn't matter if Jo was on the case. She'd never seen Jo ignore the evidence to prosecute a grudge, but there was a first time for everything and if Jo hated anyone enough to do it, it was probably Andy.

Sam stopped her just before she entered the interrogation room. "I'll be right on the other side of the glass." He said softly, twining his fingers with hers and squeezing her hand supportively. "You didn't do anything wrong. So, just answer her questions and then we can go home."

Andy held his gaze for an endless moment, wondering if he would close the distance between them and kiss her. She half-dreaded he would, the last thing she needed was someone seeing them kissing at the station. a clear breach of protocol even if they were both off duty, but she wanted him to so badly that protocol could go fuck itself. He didn't kiss her, instead he squeezed her hand a final time and let go.

Andy turned and opened the door to Interview One and stepped inside.

 


	4. What I’ve Done

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the interview

"Thank you for coming in, officer McNally." Jo said in a faux-pleasant voice, as if Andy had been given a choice in the matter. "I just have a few questions, this shouldn't take too long."

Andy forced a smile for the benefit of her audience behind the glass. She was pretty sure Sam was back there, and she was even more certain Jo had the cameras running, though thankfully the detective hadn't felt the need to set up a second camera in the room with her like Boyd had eighteen months earlier. There was something about having a camera lens right in her face that made Andy feel flushed and anxious. "Anything I can do to help."

Jo took the seat across from Andy and set down a thick folder and a pad of paper on the table between them. There had to be at least one hundred sheets in the folder and Andy felt a nervous flutter in her stomach. _What the hell was this really about? The fire had been less than three hours ago, how could they already have that much paperwork?_

"Can I get you anything before we get started? Water, coffee?" Jo offered, her slim fingers toying with the edge of the file.

Andy shook her head. "I'm fine."

"Alright." Jo flipped open the file to the first page. "How long have you lived at  1 Columbus Avenue?"

"I bought the condo a year and a half ago. I've actually lived in it for about ten months of that time." Andy said, settling back in her seat. No point in broadcasting her nerves.

"Why is that?"

Andy resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Shortly after I purchased the condo I was placed on a three month suspension and took that time to travel, and for the last five months I have been working on an assignment that took me away from my home."

Jo made a few notes on a yellow legal pad. "When did you return from this assignment?"

"This morning, a little after ten am."

Once again the detective made a note on her paper before posing another question. "Did you notice anything unusual or suspicious?"

Andy thought for a moment, picturing her apartment as it had looked when she first entered it that morning. She remembered the overwhelming feeling of relief at being home, and the realization that there was absolutely no food in the house that had driven her to hit the grocery store before even beginning to unpack. "I didn't notice anything out of the ordinary."

"While you were away, was someone looking after your condo?"

"No." Andy said. "Someone form fifteen came over and cleaned all the perishable foods out of my apartment and set up a hold on my mail with Canada Post, but otherwise I didn't have time to make any arrangements. The assignment was..." She trailed off, casting a glance at the one way mirror. She really wanted to have this conversation with Sam before anyone else. But clearly, what she wanted didn't matter much in this scenario. "... I had very little notice."

Jo raised an eyebrow. "Why was that?"

Andy twined her fingers together, wrestling over how much she should say. A number of the details of the investigation would remain confidential until after the trial, which could be a year from now at the rate lawyers seemed to work. "I was a last minute addition to the task force." She said at last, adding as an afterthought. "I'm not authorized to talk about the details of the assignment."

If Jo had a problem with Andy's refusal to reveal more details about the task force she didn't show it. "Who else has keys to the condo?"

"Traci Nash has my spare key." Andy once again glanced briefly at the window she suspected Sam was watching her through.

"Just officer Nash?" Jo sounded skeptical.

"Sam Swarek had keys, I don't know if he still has them." Andy answered in a soft voice. She remembered the sharp stab of pain that had shot through her when Sam had asked for the spare keys to his truck back. She'd never been able to bring herself to ask him what had become of the keys she'd given him. Asking for them back had seemed impossible. Somehow thinking he still had her keys and didn't voluntarily give them back had given her hope that he might not be completely done with them.

"Anyone else?"

"No."

"Can you tell me about the events that happened on the afternoon of April 27, 2013?"

It took Andy half a moment to realize that was today's date. She'd been stuck in the back of a surveillance van or manning a wire for Nick Collins sixty hours a week for the last five months, and even though she'd written the dates hundreds of times a day every day had sort of bled into the other until she wasn't sure what day of the week it was, let alone the actual date.

"McNally?" Jo prompted when Andy didn't start talking immediately.

"Sorry." Andy forced an apologetic smile that she hoped covered the frustrated exhaustion she really felt. "I got back to my condo around ten am." She began in a clipped, emotionless voice.  She kept her story short and to the point, not wanting to be here any longer than necessary, knowing Jo would not hesitate to grill her on anything relevant. "I realized I had no food so immediately went out to get groceries. I returned at approximately 11:30. I decided to bake a batch of cookies. While I was mixing the dough, Traci Nash called. We talked for ten to twenty minutes. She asked me to return a sweat shirt I borrowed and after we ended the call I went into my room to look for it. I looked for probably half an hour before I smelled smoke. When I went into the kitchen there were flames coming out of the oven. The towels hanging on the door had already caught fire and the cupboards were singed. My fire extinguisher was empty," her eyes flicked to the one-way mirror, wondering if Sam remembered the baking disaster that had used up her extinguisher. "I didn't know how else to put out a fire that size, so I went into the hall and pulled the fire alarm for the building. I made sure my neighbours were outside, called 911 and then waited for the fire fighters to arrive. It took them nearly half an hour to arrive. Sam Swarek was one of the officers who responded. When the fire was extinguished and we were told we could not go back inside, he offered to let me stay at his place for the night. That is where I was when you asked me to come in."

Jo listened without interrupting, her pen scribbling the occasional word on the pad in her hand. When Andy finished Jo was silent for several moments before looking up at Andy. "At any point, did the smoke detector inside your apartment go off?"

Andy thought for a moment. She remembered the shrill shrieking of the building's central alarm, but what had alerted her to the fire was the smell, not her own smoke detector's alarm. "No. At least not in the time before I pulled the main alarm."

“You said your fire extinguisher was empty. Do you frequently set fire to things inside your apartment?"

Andy blanched. Her immediate reaction was to get defensive, but she took a deep sharp breath and exhaled fully before responding. "No. This was the second fire in my apartment."

Jo leaned back in her chair and tapped the end of her pen against the legal pad, clearly waiting for Andy to continue.

Andy grit her teeth against the irritation and launched into the story of her housewarming party nine months earlier. She couldn't stop her eyes from flitting towards the glass every few seconds as she explained her desire to have everyone over for a housewarming six months after she'd moved in. It was really the first time she'd baked anything, and, though she didn't admit this to Jo, Sam's presence had proved incredibly distracting. It was hard to keep track of all the directions with your gorgeous partner right across the counter. A counter they hadn't even had sex on yet. The desire to cover Sam in frosting and lick him clean had been intense. It had almost certainly been the reason she'd forgotten about the contents of the oven until it started smoking. "Sam grabbed the fire extinguisher and put it out, and that was that." She concluded.

"This incident was six months after you moved in?"

"Yes."

"So at no point in the last year did you think you should probably replace your fire extinguisher?"

"I--"

"Or did you not realize that once an extinguisher is used it needs to be replaced?"

Andy clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to retain a level of calm. She'd never felt so attacked in her life, and that was including the time Boyd interviewed her after Sam disappeared from his cover apartment. "No. I knew it needed to be replaced. I just... never found the time."

Jo's eyebrows raised and she scribbled down something. "Did your smoke alarm go off with this other fire?"

"Yes." Andy answered in a hesitant tone She knew she'd set off the smoke detector on more than one occasion in her apartment, but it was hard to keep the memory of each and every cooking disaster straight. The vague memory of Sam flapping a towel at her smoke detector could have come from any number of nights. Not that she was going to admit that to Sam.

Jo scribbled a few other things and then rose to her feet, picking up the file and notepad. "Just hold tight, McNally. We're nearly done. Are you sure I can't get you a coffee?"

Andy shook her head. "No, I'm fine." She'd told her story, now it was just a matter of waiting for Jo to tell her what the hell this was really about. She knew for a fact the fire wasn't arson. So why were the police being called in to investigate it in the first place?

***

"Swarek, you got a minute?" Jo asked, motioning for him to follow her.

Sam cast one final look at Andy through the glass before stepping out into the hall. He wondered what Jo wanted. Andy had answered every question honestly, what more did Rosati expect? Sam felt a twinge of annoyance at Frank for even bringing Jo in on this. Sure, he understood that the Staff Sergeant had a responsibility to avoid even the appearance of corruption. They'd all learned that from watching the RCMP's constant struggle for popular opinion in the waves of scandal that seemed to roll one after another across the evening news. But, has Frank really not been able to find a detective who didn't want to see Andy burn? Sending Rosati to interview McNally was almost as bad as bringing Donovan Boyd back from whatever desk they'd shoved him behind because that was easier than firing him.

Jo went into the next observation room, shutting the door as soon as Sam entered. “You need to find her a good lawyer." She said without preamble. "If this went to court tomorrow she would lose. No one is going to believe a grown woman set a building on fire by accident because she forgot about a tray of chocolate chip cookies!”

“So don’t arrest her.” Sam snapped, his mind reeling. Andy didn't start that fire. His gut told him that. Of course, when it came to Andy his gut wasn't always all that reliable, but even acknowledging that, he refused to believe she would do something to reckless and dangerous. 

“What? Let her get away with arson?” 

Sam fought the urge to punch something. Just because Luke had chosen Andy two years ago didn't give Jo the right to destroy Andy's life. “If you arrest her, that’s the end of her career!” It was sad, but true. Even if Andy was found innocent, which of course she would be, the stain of an arson charge would stick to her like glue. The Service couldn't fire her, but all the good work she'd done on the task force would be for nothing. Her career would stall where it was right now, riding a patrol car through the streets of Toronto. That couldn't be allowed to happen. Not only because he loved her, but she was a damn good cop. He'd worked with her undercover, she was quick on her feet, and when she trusted her gut instead of getting lost in her head, she was usually bang on. She should be working guns and gangs, or vice, something with adventure, danger, and prestige.

“Which is why we’re not pressing charges.. yet.” Jo said in an infuriatingly calm voice, like she thought he really was going to lash out. “But you need to understand, and someone needs to make McNally understand, that this is serious. The fire department has ruled this a suspicious fire and they are expecting a full investigation.. and right now I don’t have any other suspects.”

“McNally would never—“

“Maybe. Maybe not." Jo interrupted. "People can surprise you."

“Andy didn’t do this.” Sam said, fixing her with a glare. He couldn't believe Jo was accusing Andy of purposefully setting her own home on fire the day she returned from a five month task force.

“Then find me another suspect." Jo said. "Until then, I’m releasing Andy into your custody. We’re keeping this off the books as long as possible, but if the press starts sniffing around the white shirts are going to do what’s best for the Service.. which means arresting one of our own to avoid rumors of corruption.”

“Thanks.” Sam said, almost managing to sound like he meant it. He knew he should be at least a little grateful. If Andy was a suspect, then Jo probably had something more to go on than the fact she didn't believe Andy's story. Which probably meant she had enough for an arrest. That she was leaving it off the books and letting Sam take Andy home instead of throwing her in a cell wasn't much of a favour in Sam's books, but it was one.

“Take her home” Jo gave him a soft smile. “Call me if you come up with anything.”


	5. Shadow of the Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Andy return to his place

"Thank  you for coming in McNally. I'll let you know if we have any other questions." Jo said, holding open the interrogation room door.

Andy muttered a polite goodbye she didn't really mean and stepped past her. Sam was waiting a little way down the hall and Andy wasted no time walking to his side. Sam reached for her, as if he wanted to check she was still in one piece, but dropped his arms just short of touching her. The hesitation hurt. Andy gave him a weak smile. "Can we go?"

He nodded and gestured for her to lead the way.

They made the trip back to Sam's house in relative silence. Andy leaned her head against the back of the seat and watched the city go by. She was exhausted. Every limb felt like it was filled with lead and there was a steady pounding between her temples. All she wanted to do was lean her head against Sam's shoulder and give in to sleep, but instead she forced her eyes to remain open. There were some impulses that could only end badly. Her desire to cuddle with Sam when she didn't even know if he was seeing anyone ranked somewhere just below her desire to punch Jo Rosati in the nose on the scale of dangerous impulses. They needed to have that talk. Just... not tonight. Tonight she needed to sleep.

 

Sam unlocked his front door and held it open for Andy. She looked awful. Well, she was still beautiful. But there were dark circles under her eyes, and she was moving like she was barely managing to stay upright. He wanted nothing more than to pull her against his chest and hold her forever. But that couldn't happen. At least not until they had their talk. There were things he needed to tell her. Things that would probably mean he would never get to hold her again. But he loved her too much to keep the truth from her. Even if it meant he was almost certain to lose her.

Tonight, though, he was keeping his mouth shut. She was here, she was letting him take care of her, and for now that was enough.

He closed the door and locked it before shedding his coat and boots. He took Andy's coat from her and hung it in the closet. "Have you eaten today?" He asked her.

Andy shook her head. "Not since breakfast."

Sam did a quick mental inventory of the contents of his fridge and grimaced. He'd been slack on the grocery shopping lately. It a so much easier to grab dinner at the Penny than go through the pain in the ass of shopping and cooking for one; it was something he used to do every day, but somehow after he broke up with Andy, solo dinners in his kitchen had become a reminder of everything he'd stupidly thrown away. "Cold pizza sound good?"

Andy smiled. "Sure." She went to rise, but Sam waved her off.

"I'll bring it out here." He said, turning towards the kitchen. He waited only until he was out of earshot to pull out his cell phone. He dialed the familiar number while pulling down a pair of plates. Frank picked up just as Sam was pulling the brightly coloured Pizza Pizza box out of his fridge.

"Hello?"

"Hi Frank." Sam kept his voice low.

"Sam?"

"Yeah," Sam put a piece of pepperoni pizza on each plate with one hand, the other holding the phone. "You heard about McNally's--"

"Building fire." Frank finished for him. "I know you don't like it, Sam, but we have to rule her out as a suspect before the media gets wind that one of our officers lives in that building, and I requested Rosati, she knows the division but she's got some distance."

Sam pulled two bottles of beer from the fridge. When Frank finished his brief justification Sam jumped in with the real reason for his call. "I get it, had to be done quickly and quietly, but Andy's supposed to go in for a shift tomorrow, do you think that's a good idea?"

Frank was silent for several seconds.

Sam waited, shoving the remains of the pizza back into the fridge and then leaning back against the counter.

"We could use her, but if this goes to court..." He paused again.

"It'll look bad on fifteen." Sam said darkly. For what felt like the tenth time that day, Sam fought the urge to put his fist through a wall, or someone's face.  It was maddening. As much as he knew Andy shouldn't be at work while under active investigation, he felt traitorous even calling Frank about it. But, he assured himself, this was infinitely better than Andy showing up to shift only to be called into Frank's office and sent home pending approval for her to resume duty.

"I'll arrange a week with pay, losing your house in a fire should be good for at least that. The minute she's cleared and feels up to it, we want her back." Frank said at last.

"Thank you, Frank." Sam said, feeling actual gratitude. The fewer people in the service who knew what was going on right now, the better.

"Goodnight."

Sam hung up the phone and returned it to his pocket before picking up the plates and beer and returning to the living room where he'd left Andy. He knew she wasn't going to take the news of a week off work while they investigated the fire very well, she was even more of a workaholic than he was, but Andy was nothing if not strong and she would cope with it.

The sight that met Sam's eyes when he entered the living room stopped him in his tracks. Andy was curled up on one end of his couch, and throw pillow cradled against her chest, fast asleep. She looked so young and vulnerable  His heart clenched at the sight and he smiled a little as he backed out of the room and returned to the kitchen. He set the pizza and beer on the counter to deal with later.

There was a ratty, knitted blanket his grandmother had made him slung across the foot of the guest bed and Sam grabbed it on his way through to the living room. He moved quietly, so as not to wake her, draping the blanket over her body, making sure it covered her from chin to toe. He brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering against her soft skin.  She really was the most beautiful woman in the world he thought, looking down at her familiar, beloved face.  _God how he'd missed her._  

Sam wasn't one for regrets. He followed his gut most of the time and had long ago learned to live with the consequences. But this past year it felt like all he'd been doing was piling mistake on top of mistake until he couldn't tell which way was up. But of all the mistakes he'd made, pushing Andy away was the one that kept him up at night. He could justify it until he was blue in the face. Being with her, loving her, worrying about losing her, worrying about never being enough for her, clouded his judgement. His gut wasn't in control anymore, his heart was, and it blinded him. He couldn't make rational decisions with her at his side. All he wanted was to keep her safe, and when it had come down to a choice between following her instincts and following Jerry's orders, he'd chosen her. For a long time, he couldn't forgive himself for that. He'd thought breaking up with her would be easier. That somehow, having hurt her and lost her all in one breath he would be able to regain his equilibrium. He couldn't have been more wrong. Not being with Andy only made him worry about her more, and trust himself less. He cringed just thinking about some of the asinine things he'd done without her. The worst of which he wasn't sure he could bring himself to tell her about.

Andy stirred, but didn't wake. Sam had spent more than one night crashed on his couch in the first weeks after Jerry died, when most nights he was too drunk to care if he made it back to his room or fell asleep fully dressed on his couch. He knew how uncomfortable it could be. "Andy," he said softly, reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulder.

She murmured something unintelligible and snuggled further under the blanket Sam had spread over her.

He smiled. Andy didn't like people to know this about her, but she slept like the dead. He would never forget the night she'd managed to roll off the side of the bed. The thud of her hitting the floor and the sudden chill of all the blankets going with her had woken Sam, but Andy slept on. She hadn't even woken when he'd lifted her back into bed and stolen back half the blankets. She'd blamed the NyQuil she'd taken before bed, but Sam had just laughed, and when it happened again a week later, he returned her to bed without ever bringing it up.

Moving carefully, in case months of undercover work had destroyed her ability to sleep through almost anything but her alarm clock, Sam slid one arm under her knees and the other under her torso and lifted Andy gently into his arms. She fit perfectly against his chest, her head lolling against one shoulder, her long brown hair tickling his nose. Almost unconsciously, he buried his nose in her hair and breathed in the familiar scent. 

The spare bedroom was plain, but the bed was made with clean sheets and there was a thick warm comforter. Sam laid Andy on the bed and pulled the blankets over her. "Goodnight, Andy." He said in a soft voice, pressing a chaste kiss against her forehead.

He stood in the doorway for a long time, watching her sleeping face illuminated by the light from the hallway. He wanted nothing more than to lay down beside her, but he knew she was right. They needed to talk before anything else happened. If only Jo had waited one more day, they would be done their talk by now. Of course.. once Andy knew she probably wouldn't want to stay here, let alone share his bed. Sam flicked off the hall light and made his way back to the kitchen. He needed a drink.

 

It took Andy a minute to get her bearings when she awoke the next morning. The room was vaguely familiar, the lumpy green knit blanket half wrapped around her shoulders was the only thing she could really place. It was Sam's. No mistaking the mediocre quality of the knitting, or the 1970s colour palette. She sat up slowly, trying, and failing, to remember how she got here. The last memory she had was of curling up on Sam's sofa, promising herself she would just close her eyes for a moment. The reason she was at Sam's at all came flooding quickly back after that, making Andy feel nauseous and anxious all at once. Her condo. Her career. The former was gone for sure, the latter... with Jo Rosati on the case, she didn't imagine it would last much longer either. With that cheerful thought, Andy swung her feet off the bed and stood. Today was her first day back at fifteen, and even if getting up and leaving Sam's townhouse seemed impossible, she wasn't about to miss her first day back. 

Sam wasn't in the living room or the kitchen and she didn't hear any noise from inside his bedroom. "Sam?" She called, knocking twice on the closed door. There was no answer and after a moment's deliberation, Andy decided to wait in the kitchen. She knew where he kept the coffee, and she definitely needed an extra strong cup of that this morning.

There was a folded piece of white paper propped against the coffee maker with 'Andy' written on the outside in Sam's familiar script. Andy picked it up and unfolded it.

_Hope you slept well. Frank called me in early, he gave you the week off to deal with your place. There's food in the fridge, help yourself. Call if you need anything._

_\- Sam._

Andy read the not three times, disbelief and anger growing with each read-through. The time off hadn't been Sam's idea. Of that she was certain. This whole thing could only be caused by one person: Jo.  Andy set the note back on the counter, and reached for the phone.


	6. Fallout

 

"Andy! Oh my _God,_ are you okay?" Traci's voice was high pitched with worry.

Andy's anger abated slightly in the wake of a wave of guilt. She hadn't even thought to call Traci. She shook her head in disapproval at her own inaction. "I'm sorry I didn't call you last night, it's--"

"Don't worry about it." Traci cut her off mid-excuse. "You're taking some time off, right?"

Andy sighed. She knew it had been optimistic and maybe a little naive to hope that everyone at fifteen wouldn't already know about the fire and her 'time off,' but she was still disappointed. "Frank's orders." She answered sullenly.

She could almost hear Traci rolling her eyes. "Andy, your house burned down yesterday. You are going to need a few days to sort out the insurance and start replacing the essentials. This isn't a punishment, it's a gift."

"I guess." Andy didn't really agree, but clearly Traci didn't know the whole story and Andy wasn't about to get into it over the phone when she couldn't see Traci's expressions or know who else might overhear. The fewer people who knew she was a suspect in an arson, the better.

"Where are you staying?" Traci asked, changing to a more neutral topic. "If you need a place, my bed has room for one more." She said it in a teasing tone, but Andy could hear the loneliness in Traci’s voice. The wound from Jerry's death was clearly going to take more than six months to heal. "Or I can make Leo share with me and you can have his room."

"Thanks," Andy said, meaning it, "but Sam has a spare room and he's letting me stay until I find a place." At least, she hoped so. She realized as the words came out of her mouth that they hadn't even managed to talk about that tiny detail the night before. She'd been so worried with where they stood and if they could get back to where they were before Jerry died and life went to hell in a hand basket that she hadn't bothered to ask if the spare room was hers for more than just that night.

"Are you two...?" Traci's voice was eager.

"We haven't had a chance to talk about it." Andy answered honestly. She'd never told Traci the real story of what happened when Sam and she broke up, she'd stuck to a vague idea of Sam shutting himself off rather than tell Traci that Sam blamed Andy for Jerry's death. She didn't want to pile onto Traci's grief, and, what she was half afraid to admit to herself, she didn't want to give Traci a reason to blame her too.

"But you want to."

"I don't know."  She loved him, she was pretty sure that even after all this time apart, that hadn't changed. But she wasn't sure she trusted him anymore. Not when it came to this. If they were going to work he couldn't walk out of her every time something awful happened. They were cops, the sad reality was that Jerry would probably not be the last friend they lost on the job. If it happened again she needed to know Sam would be there for her, that they could grieve together. Not, she thought regretfully, that she had really been there for him with Jerry. It had been too shocking, to horrible. Her brain couldn't accept it, let alone help Sam, who always seemed so strong and unshakable. By the time she had processed it enough to have a prayer of helping Sam, he was gone. She'd tried then, calling every day, sometimes more than once, but he had shut her out completely. Deep down, she wondered if that was her fault too, and it nearly killed her.  She couldn't go through that again. Even if Sam loved her - which she hoped he did, but with Sam it was impossible to tell - maybe they just weren't meant to be.

"Look, I have to get back to work and I'm sure you have a million phone calls to make to get things going with your insurance." Traci said, "I'm off tomorrow, why don't we hit the mall and get you a replacement wardrobe?"

"Sure. Thanks Trace." Andy hung up the phone and sat staring at it for several minutes. She'd called Traci intending to beg a ride to the station so she could give Jo a piece of her mind, but the talk had calmed her down and she realized Traci was right, she had a lot of things to take care of if she ever wanted to move back into a place of her own. A part of her heart hoped by the time it was all sorted out she wouldn't need one, but she knew if she wanted to make things work with Sam, or with anyone, she needed to get her own life sorted first.

Sam's laptop was sitting at the kitchen table, she flipped it open and punched the name of her insurance company into the search bar. First, condo, then love life.

 

 

The day could not be going more slowly. For once, being on the streets was the last thing Sam wanted to be doing. He'd half hoped to be assigned to Rosati's case so he could find a way to clear Andy's name, but this was reality, not some fairy tale. If he wanted to be the white knight in shining armor aboard a white charger, he would need to do a little grunt work first. To make matters worse, Frank paired him with Gail. Not that Sam had anything against the blonde, he just didn't need the reminder of all the things he hadn't yet told Andy. The things he was most worried she wouldn't be able to forget, or forgive.

"You're quiet today," Gail observed, giving him a penetrating look from the passenger seat as he idled at a red light. She and Sam had been working together quite a bit with Nick and Andy both gone. She would even say they had become friends, but she wasn't sure he would go that far, and that made asking the questions burning in her mind awkward and possibly super inappropriate. So, instead, she stuck to somewhat clichéd hints in hopes he would tell her what the hell was going on with Andy.

She had expected Andy to be there this morning, everyone had. Although, having a fire at your building was traumatic. Still, as far as Gail knew, Andy was the type who dealt with trauma by throwing herself into work not taking a leave. She probably could have asked Nick, after all he'd been paired with the brunette for the last five months, but that would require speaking to him, and she wasn't quite ready to do that yet. She still couldn't quite believe he'd shown up on her doorstep at two in the afternoon after a five month absence and just expected things to get back to normal. Was he insane?

"Long day," Sam said in his typically brief and unhelpful way.

Gail shot him an exasperated look, but she wasn't sure he even saw it. The light had turned green and Sam was using that as an excuse to focus all his energy on the road. "How's Andy?"

Sam turned briefly to give Gail a look that clearly said he didn't want to talk about it before grunting. "She's fine," and turning once again to the road before them.

It was a quiet day. The April afternoon was sunny and bright and it seemed like every driver in Toronto was sticking to the speed limit, signaling their turns, and watching for hazards. Girls on the sidewalk were trotting out their sun dresses even though it was still a few degrees too cool for them and everyone seemed to be happy and carefree - everyone, that is, but Sam.

"Does she need anything?" Gail prodded. She didn't know what was wrong with her today. Normally she was more than happy to let people keep everything bottled up. Emotions were messy and ugly and often painful. She really could do without them altogether. Or so she tried to tell herself. If she were brutally honest, something she tried to avoid being these days, she would admit that part of her desire to know what was going on with Sam and Andy was a selfish desire to know if anything happened between Andy and Nick during their time undercover. 

Gail knew better than anyone that Nick could probably charm the pants off a Royal Guard at Buckingham Palace if he set his mind to it -  an emotionally vulnerable woman his own age would be a piece of cake. She wanted to believe he would be faithful to her, no matter what temptations lay before him, but the fact that he'd left without even a goodbye was not encouraging. It didn't help that they had never defined what they were - her choice - or set any rules - his. If they weren't boyfriend and girlfriend, she didn't even really have a leg to stand on when it came to being upset at his leaving.  Although, even as friends with benefits, a heads up would have been nice. Maybe then she wouldn't have done what she had.

A sidelong glance at Sam told her he was still pretending he hadn't heard her and that the traffic out the front windshield required every iota of his concentration. Probably for the best as she could feel a hot flame of embarrassment burning in her cheeks. They were friends, sort of, she should never have let it get that far. Sure when she'd been a rookie she'd thought he was completely fuckable, his obvious pining after Andy be damned, but she thought she'd come a long way since then. Apparently, not far enough. Of all the night she could have been black out drunk instead of just drunk enough to do something incredibly stupid. Why hadn't she taken just three more shots of tequila? That definitely would have pushed her over the edge and maybe even into a drunken slumber before she'd managed to do anything. “I won’t say anything,” Gail said, turning her face away so Sam wouldn’t see the pink of her cheeks.

Sam was silent for a long while but when Gail dared to turn her head to look at him again, he met her eyes and gave her a crooked smile. “Thanks.”

“You know, we didn’t do anything wrong.” She said, feeling a sudden need to reassure both herself and him that they weren’t the horrible people she sometimes very much feared she was.

“No.”

It wasn’t quite a question, but Gail answered anyway. “No. They left, we were lonely and drunk, these things happen.”

“Is that what you told Nick?”

She winced a little. It was a fair question, but not one she wanted to answer, although she supposed the fact that she hadn’t even known Nick was back until he walked into parade this morning might have been something of an excuse. As if she needed an excuse. There were some things no one needed to know. “No.” She admitted. She’d told herself she would tell him tonight, at least, she would tell him what she thought he needed to know. _That is if he bothers to show_ , she added bitterly inside her head. After five months without so much as an email she had no idea if Nick was even interested anymore, or if this was Vegas all over again.


	7. Until it Breaks

 

May, 2007

Las Vegas, Nevada

_So this is Vegas?_ Gail peered out of the tinted window of the town car as they approached downtown. It looked exactly the way it did in the movies: fake. She twisted the pendant on her necklace, a gift from Nick for her twenty second birthday, between forefinger and thumb, an unconscious sign of the anxiety pumping through her veins. 

She still couldn’t believe she was _here_. Not in Vegas, the location was fairly insignificant in the face of everything else, but _here_ in the metaphysical sense. Or than she was pondering the metaphysics of her actions. Definitely not in character.

Gail had never been one for thinking too much. Not that she was dumb. She just didn’t plan long term. She’d never had to. After all, she was a Peck. Her destiny was laid out before her and it really didn’t matter what she wanted, she would follow in the steps of her mother, the Superintendent; her brother, the Detective; her Godfather, the Chief of Police; and every other member of their immediate circle because that was what Pecks did.

She’d never really questioned it. She didn’t even really mind. There was something freeing about knowing exactly what you were going to be ‘when you grew up’ from the age of six. It had certainly made meetings with her high school counsellor a snap. Not like most of her friends who bounced from vet to kindergarten teacher to beautician at dizzying speeds. Gail had only ever planned to be one thing: an officer with the Toronto Police Service. Glamorous it was not, but it was what she had been raised to be, raised to believe in, and somehow that made it the safe choice.

Safe. Her whole life could more or less be summed up in that one word. At least until she met Nick.

Gail turned away from the effervescent glow of The Strip and smiled at her boyfriend of two years. Nick was definitely not the safe choice.

For one thing, her mother _hated_ him.

Not that Elaine Peck had ever really approved of Gail’s taste in men. Gail sometimes suspected that Elaine disapproved of men in general rather than Gail’s tastes in particular, but she’d never been able to prove it, after all it wasn’t like Elaine was rude to any of the friends her daughter brought home over the years. Elaine had made Superintendent for a reason: she was amazing at the superficial shit.  She could smile and blow smoke up your ass until you thought she was the nicest lady you’d ever come across, and then suddenly the eyes would go dead and her voice would take on that too-friendly tone and you would find yourself doing whatever she asked because behind the friendly veneer was a threat you didn’t want articulated.

Gail envied that skill. Where Elaine was all smooth edges and slippery as an eel, Gail was all sharp corners and stinging barbs that clung like so many burrs to a pair of wool socks.  She was not a people person. It was probably a good thing she wanted to be a cop.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Nick teased, taking the hand that wasn’t toying with her necklace in his, twining their fingers.

“My mother.” Gail released the necklace. It bounced once before settling against her sternum.

“Ah.” Nick squeezed her hand. He knew all about her mother. Though his own parents had died years before, he was amazingly sympathetic about Elaine. He wasn’t like most kids she knew who believed any parent was better than no parent and would have thought Gail was selfish or heartless to complain about her mother to her orphaned boyfriend. “We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want to.”

Gail raised an eyebrow. “What, you getting cold feet?”

“No cold feet here,” He said, raising her hand to his lips.

She rolled her eyes. “Cheesy will get you nowhere, Collins.”

He grinned. A quickie wedding in Vegas wasn’t exactly how he’d envisioned getting married, but here they were, and he was pretty sure he was thrilled about it. “It got you to agree to marry me.” He said, leaning over and stopping any smart ass rebuttal with a kiss.

November, 2012

The Penny, Toronto

"I don't think she's coming." Gail said, signalling the bartender for another shot. She'd already had five in the forty minutes she'd been sharing the bar with Sam Swarek, both of them twitching whenever the door opened. She'd given up hope of Nick showing up by now and, since she was going to have to beg a ride home anyway she didn't see any harm in keeping a nice sustained buzz until someone told her it was time for her to stop drowning her sorrows and go home to bed.

Sam didn't respond, at least not verbally. He did turn his head and give her a baleful glare, which she ignored. Gail ordered shots for both of them figuring he needed it far more than she did, and he was three shots behind.

The door opened again, admitting a blast of cool November air and a pair of women Gail didn't know. Sam looked and then let his head drop in disappointment. He really was raising moping in public to a level even Luke Callaghan hadn't managed to reach in his epic downwards spiral after he lost Andy. Gail made a drunken mental note to ask Andy about that one of these days. Gail couldn't even keep her boyfriend interested enough to show up when he said he might, let alone so in love with her he would descend into drunken pathetic messes that lasted months beyond the breakup. _The girl must have beer flavoured nipples or something_.  She thought with a little giggle as she exchanged a twenty for a trio of shot glasses from the bar tender.

She pushed one shot towards Sam, but he shook his head. "Driving," he said as if that was a legitimate excuse for letting a lady drink alone.

She shrugged, "More for me," and downed all three in quick succession, and then regretted it almost instantly. The room was spinning now, and her hurt feelings that Nick hadn't bothered to come celebrate her reinstatement were only magnified by the tequila coursing through her system. She shouldn't be surprised. Nick has never been good at commitment. _It's not like I didn't know better._

"You should be in bed."

Sam's voice penetrated the fog of her thoughts and Gail tilted her head to one side to better see his face. She smiled a goofy drunken smile and replied in her most sultry voice, "Only if you'll join me, handsome." Alarm bells went off somewhere in her mind, telling her this was a seriously stupid idea, but everything was muffled and spinning and nice, so she told the alarm to stuff it, and rose unsteadily to her feet.

When she was a few steps away from the bar she realized that Sam wasn't following her. She turned and crossed her arms over her chest, "Well?"

May, 2007

Las Vegas, Nevada

Nick looked at his reflection in the mirror and barely recognized the face staring back at him. His usually cheerful features were set in a grim line and he thought he looked more like a prisoner preparing to meet an executioner than a man on his wedding day.  Just the thought that it was his wedding day set the icy lump in his stomach to quivering. _A Vegas Wedding.. What the fuck was I thinking?_

It wasn’t just his face. The rented suit didn’t quite fit, the shoulders were a couple centimeters too narrow and he felt like if he moved too vigorously it might rip along the back scene like some comic book cliché. He’d opted for a blue tie that Gail had bought him for a family dinner last year, now he was regretting it. Gail hated family dinners. What was for him a reminder of the first time he’d realized just how amazing Gail was, was probably a reminder of just how much Elaine disapproved. Which was a lot.

He took a deep breath, straightened the idiotic tie for the tenth time in as many minutes and took a step back. It was almost time. Gail would be waiting. He wondered if she was as nervous as he was, but he doubted it. Gail didn’t do nervous, upset sure or even afraid (although even that was so rare it was easy to forget), but she never showed her nerves. It was one of his favourite things about her, her fearlessness. They’d done some crazy things… 

Like running away together to get married in Vegas. Nick took a deep steadying breath, it didn’t steady him. _What the fuck was I thinking?_

 

Gail smoothed her skirt for the tenth time in as many minutes. Nick was late and with every audible tick of the giant clock on the wall of the chapel her stomach twisted a little tighter. _What if he doesn’t come?_

She did her best to squelch that inner voice, but when ten minutes became fifteen, and then twenty, she started to worry in earnest. At the twenty five minute mark she was half convinced he was lying dead in his hotel room, or somewhere between there and here. "Do you have a phone?" She asked the smiling woman behind the front desk, her own phone was turned off and sitting in her suitcase.

"Of course," the woman placed her large office phone on the edge of the counter in front of her. "Local call?"

Gail nodded and picked up the handset. She dialed the number of the hotel from memory, something any Peck who wanted to survive adolescence learned early, and waited, tapping her fingers impatiently as it rang over and over and over. When she counted ten rings she hung up, her worry turned to something like panic now.

"Everything alright, sugar?" The woman asked.

Gail took in the woman's frizzy red hair and impractical inch long acrylic nails with little Scottie dogs painted on them and barely managed to keep from snarling at her that of _course_ everything wasn't alright, she was _alon_ e  in a wedding Chapel. Instead she forced a nice polite smile and dialed the hotel's number again, this time selecting the front desk from the automated menu.

Two minutes later she set down the handset and sank into the nearest chair. "Bastard." She muttered, her entire body limp with shock. Nick was gone.

November, 2012

Sam’s townhouse, Toronto

She wasn't sure how it happened. One moment they were getting into a cab and Sam was giving the driver an address - not hers - the next her shirt was hitting his bedroom floor and his mouth was nipping oh so deliciously at her neck.

The tequila coursing through her veins made her light headed and she could almost believe this was just a dream, except for the fact that she had never dreamed this and the pinch of half pleasure half pain when Sam twisted her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra would certainly have woken her instead of eliciting a moan.

This was real, it was happening. It was happening fast. His shirt joined hers and she ran both palms over his lightly haired chest  before reaching down to unbutton his fly.

“Do you?” She asked as his hardened length sprang free.

"Bedside drawer," Sam half panted as her small, hot hand wrapped around his cock.

Gail released him and took a slow step back towards the bed, undoing her fly without taking her eyes off him. She released the top button and then slowly lowered the zipper revealing creamy, perfect skin and bright pink lace underwear. Her jeans slipped easily over her hips and landed in a puddle on the floor.

Sam was across the room in two long strides, pulling her against him and capturing her lips in his before his brain had a chance to think, really think, about what he was doing.

She pulled away with a coy grin and reached behind her to open the top drawer of his night table and reached in, fumbling a bit before pulling out a foil packet. "Where do you want me?" She asked in a husky, seductive voice.

Sam hesitated for a moment, his heart was hammering in his chest and his cock was painfully erect, but somewhere through the fog of scotch and tequila he had a distinct, if fleeting, feeling he shouldn't be doing this.

Gail sat herself on the nightstand and leaned forward, pressing kisses along his stomach, trailing downwards slowly, suckling and nipping as she went.

He twined his fingers through her hair and tugged her head back none too gently so he could look her in the eyes. “Are you sure?” He asked, breathing hard as he fought the urge to throw her down on the bed and fuck her until the doubts disappeared in a haze of pleasure. “We don’t have t--”

She shook her head. “No. I want you inside me.”

Her voice and her words sent a jolt of need right through him and he dropped to his knees, kissing her fiercely as his fingers reached for the waistband of her underwear.

She raised her hips to help him slide them off and then spread her legs in silent invitation.

For a second Sam remembered his first time going down on Andy, how unsure she'd been, and then how her body had responded so deliciously to his touch. The thought made his heart flip painfully and he banished it. Andy didn't want him. She'd made that perfectly clear. He let the fuzzy haze of drunken horniness take him as he lowered his mouth to the neatly trimmed landing strip between Gail's thighs.

Gail's back arched as his tongue found her clit, circling and suckling, drawing forth waves of pleasure. She ran one hand through his hair, the other coming up to circle and pinch her nipples until she felt her legs stiffen, her whole body contracting in a moment of mind-numbing pleasure as she came.

Sam rose to his feet and pulled her after him. Her knees wobbled, her muscles still loose in the aftermath of her orgasm and she fell against his chest. His burning hot cock pressed against her abdomen sending a hot current of need straight to her cunt. "Please," She whispered, pressing herself against him,  all she could think of was how badly she wanted, needed, this.

With guttural moan, Sam dropped his mouth to her neck, sucking the flesh hard enough to leave a mark.

Gail cried out, digging her fingers into his back and thrusting her hips towards him.

He responded by pushing her down on the bed, pausing only long enough to pick up the condom she'd abandoned on his nightstand and roll it on before positioning himself over her. His eyes met hers and he thrust into her, hard and fast.

Gail cried out at the sudden fullness, her legs coming up on either side of his hips, drawing him even deeper. She moaned and that was all the encouragement he needed as he pulled out and thrust back in again, and again until they were both grunting with pleasure.

Neither one felt the delicate latex tear, they were too consumed in feeling everything else.

April, 2013

Sam’s townhouse, Toronto

Andy didn’t turn when Sam appeared in the doorway of the kitchen and he stood still and silent for a moment, drinking in the sight of her. She was tapping away at the keyboard, occasionally stopping to frown at whatever she was working on. Her long brown hair was twisted into a hasty braid down her back, and she was wearing one of his t-shirts over her own jeans, and in that moment it was like the last eight months hadn’t happened. But, reality intruded swiftly on the daydream. Those months had happened, Jerry was dead, he’d pushed her away, and now if he wanted a chance with her there were things that needed to be said.

“We need to talk.”

Andy jumped a little, startled by his voice. She’d thought she heard the door open, but she’d been in the middle of trying to remember exactly what items had been in her kitchen and had quickly forgotten. She saved the inventory list she had been compiling for her insurers on his laptop, and closed the computer before looking up at him, her dark eyes steady though her stomach was churning. _Dear God he’s gorgeous._ “Yes, we do.”

 


	8. Leave Out All the Rest

 

Andy turned sideways in the chair so she could face Sam where he stood in the doorway. She folded and unfolded her hands, waiting, though for what she couldn't have said. The air between them felt charged with all the things unsaid and yet she couldn't seem to find the words to start. Sam seemed to be in the same state, though his slouched posture projected an air of relaxation, there was a tension in his jaw and his eyes seemed to bore into her. Not for the first, or last, time she thought how easy it would be to just skip this awkwardness and fly into his arms, but then she remembered the unasked question that had dangled on her lips the night before, saved from being said aloud only by the arrival of Jo on the doorstep, and she knew she couldn't avoid it any longer.

"Did you... Are you... seeing anyone?" She asked in a strangled voice she didn't quite recognize. The minute she said it, she wished she had found a way to ease into the conversation, but for all Sam told her talking was her gift, she'd never been particularly good at awkward conversations.

A flicker of something crossed Sam's face and the pause before he answered stretched several seconds too long. Andy's heart thudded unpleasantly against her ribs. _He is_ , her traitorous brain announced, and unbidden she saw Jo Rosati's face.

"No," Sam said at last. "I'm not seeing anyone."

Andy could have collapsed back against her chair in relief, but Sam wasn't finished.

"There was one night..." He took a few steps towards her, his eyes were pained and he seemed to be fighting against himself to get the words out. "We were drinking...."

Tears burned against the back of Andy's eyes, but she clenched her hands tightly together and managed to keep her voice from shaking. "Who?"

For a minute she thought Sam was going to refuse to answer. He crossed his arms over his chest and then said in a quiet voice, "Gail Peck."

Andy blinked twice, her brain refusing at first to process the information. _Gail?_  It was not what she expected, and yet it hurt just as much as if he'd said 'Jo Rosati.'

"It didn't mean anything." He continued, closing the distance between them until he was standing so close she could have reached out and touched him. His dark eyes tried to capture hers, but she avoided them. "Andy--" His voice was pained.

Andy's eyes flicked up unconsciously and then were caught by the obvious anguish in his. "When?" She asked, dreading the answer.

"Five months ago."

Andy nodded. _Five months ago you told me you loved me!_ her mind cried, but she said nothing. What could she say? Yes, he had said 'I love you' and that declaration had haunted her every night she was away, but she had gone away. Could she really blame him for sleeping with someone when she disappeared in the middle of the night, leaving him waiting at the Penny without even a phone call? Hadn’t she done  practically the same thing to Luke years ago? Only stone sober, and when she knew he was exactly where she told him to be. But then Luke had… She shrugged off the thought. No. Sam wasn’t Luke. Luke had proposed to her and then tried to cover up his affair with spa trips and flowers. Sam was standing in front of her, looking as close to tears as she had ever seen him, telling her even though they hadn’t been together and, knowing how tight lipped Gail could be, he could have kept it from her forever if he’d wanted to. 

"Andy?" Sam stood just a few feet away from her, his hands tensed into fists at his sides as he waited for her reaction.

Andy stared at him silently for several moments, her mind and heart warring over this new information. She was hurt, yes, but she was also acutely aware that she didn't really have any grounds to be angry with him for it. She'd disappeared in the middle of the night while he waited for her at the Penny. She had known as she climbed into the car that night that Sam might move on while she and Nick worked the task force, it was a risk she had willingly taken. So how could she be mad at him when she was the one who walked away? She couldn't, and she realized that she wasn't mad, not really. She was confused, and so very, very jealous. She couldn't quite wrap her brain around it. Sure, she knew Gail had fancied Sam back when they were rookies, but they had all come a long way in the past few years and she was nearly as surprised at Gail sleeping with Sam as she was hurt by the thought of Sam sleeping with Gail. She had to fight the temptation to deny any of it had happened at all. “I need to.. process this.” She said, rising to her feet.

She needed to get away from him, and the voice in her head loudly suggesting sex as the answer to all her problems. The temptation to tell him she was fine, even with the turmoil in her brain in order to spare his feelings and avoid dealing with the maelstrom in her own breast was great, but she resisted. Or rather, she did what she did best: fled.

Sam let out the breath he wasn’t aware he was holding when she disappeared into the guest room. There was still a lot to say, but at least she wasn’t picking up and running away. As long as she was _here_ he had hope that they could get past his stupid mistakes. He was done pretending he could get by without her.

He wasn’t good at relationships. That much he had known, or at least suspected, for years. But he didn’t think he’d ever screwed one up quite like this before. There was something about Andy that seemed to bring out every idiotic, self-defeating impulse inside him. It was like he was so afraid he would screw it up and scare  her away that he had begun deliberately trying to. If he had been trying to, he didn’t know if he could have done it half so well. Fist he’d blamed her for Jerry, and then ignored her, too angry at himself to let her near him, and then, as if the rest wasn’t bad enough, he’d gone and slept with her friend in a night of drunken self-loathing.

When he set it all out he didn’t know why she was still there. He’d given her every reason to slap him across the face and walk out of his life. But she was still here. The thought gave him hope, though a tiny voice in his head reminded him that she didn’t really have anywhere else to go.

\--

Andy did not sleep well. Her restless dreams were plagued by blonde women, licking flames, and billowing black smoke. She woke with a dry mouth and a pounding headache, wanting nothing so much as to be able to burrow back under the covers and sleep until she forgot that the last two days had even happened. Sam and _Gail?_ The thought made her groan even as she dutifully swung her legs over the side of the bed, setting both feet on the icy floor and reaching for her last clean pair of jeans. She’d never kept much at Sam’s, a change of clothes, a spare toothbrush, she hadn’t needed to. Most of the time they stayed at her place. She didn’t mind. Her place… She groaned again and rose irritably to her feet.

Her place was gone.

The remembrance hurt, but not in the way she might have anticipated. Yes, she would miss her first ever home, the trendy exposed brick, the polished hardwood floors, the memories of having Sam in every room and on every piece of furniture. But in this moment, as she tied her long hair back into a simple braid and staggered towards the bathroom, what hurt more was that she was finally living here, something she’d wanted for what felt like forever, not because Sam wanted her there, but because she had nowhere else to go.

For a moment she clung to the tattered remnants of her anger from the night before, but they slipped through her grasp. She forgave him. Of course she forgive him. It was a foregone conclusion before he’d said a word. This was _Sam._ No matter how angry she got, or what he did, she would always forgive him. It was almost enough to make her hate him. But no, she most emphatically did not hate Sam Swarek. She loved him, was _in love_ with him, but she was also pretty sure he didn’t love her anymore, if he ever had.

She turned the shower to scalding hot and stepped under the spray, and tried to tell herself the only water running down her face came from the faucets. She was a McNally, and McNallys didn’t cry over missed opportunities and lonely nights. She wasn’t even sure McNallys were allowed to cry at all.

By the time she stepped out of the shower, her skin hot pink from the heat, she felt better. Not quite herself, but calmer, collected, and almost ready to face the day. She gave her misty reflection a smile. _You can do this_.

She half expected Sam to be gone already, a note left in his place. But he wasn’t gone, he was sitting at the kitchen table, drinking a cup of coffee and  frowning at something on the screen of his computer. When he saw Andy he made a move as if to close the laptop but she gave him a look and instead of closing the lid he turned it towards her.

**_Suspicious Toronto Fire Leaves Family Homeless_ **

Andy paled. Beneath the title was a picture of her building yesterday. The fire damage was visible from the outside in the form of ugly black lines of smoke damaged brick and melted windows in the unit below hers. Her heart clenched as she realized for the first time the impact of the fire on her neighbours; people she had never managed to find time to meet who were now homeless because she hadn’t remembered to refill her fire extinguisher or set a timer before leaving the kitchen. For the second time that morning she felt tears well up in her eyes. She blinked them away furiously, skimming the rest of the article.

It didn’t say much about the fire itself. It was a human interest piece ranting about how Torontonians didn’t know their neighbours and the excessively virtuous family that was now without a home. The writer hinted that the fire inspector had ruled the fire arson and that police had a suspect but wrote that they were not revealing anything until the investigation was further underway. 

When she looked up, Sam was watching her with guarded eyes.

“I didn’t think it would..” she trailed off, realizing what an idiot she had been. Of course the news would be all over this, a nice bit of intrigue that involved danger without death, perfect for a slow news day. If they ever learned she was a suspect… A shiver ran down her spine and for a moment she was deeply grateful that Jo had dragged her into fifteen the night before, when no one in the press seemed the wiser and her coworkers could have no idea.

Sam stood up, squeezing her shoulder briefly as he passed her on his way towards the coffee maker. “Coffee?” He offered in a too casual tone that told her he was waiting only for a sign from her to jump in a play protective partner. She was thankful he was letting her deal with this on her own for now. This was her mess, not his.

Andy leaned against the table, too shell-shocked to stand, and too weary to take the two steps to a chair. “Please.” She said in a quiet voice. Her head was reeling. _That poor family! The press…_

A cup of coffee with lots of milk was pressed into her hands seconds before Sam’s warm strong hands gripped her by the shoulders, forcing her to meet his earnest eyes. “It’s going to be alright.” He said in a voice that somehow managed to be both fierce and gentle. “It was an accident. They’re just being cautious, and you know the news, they’d make a scandal out of every drunk driver we pull in on a Saturday night if they could.” He tried to turn it into a joke but it fell flat.

Andy forced her lips to smile, he was trying so hard to cheer her up, and she so wanted to believe him. She took a gulp of coffee, it burned all the way down but she welcomed the heat, it helped thaw the icy chill that had set up residence in her belly the moment she read the headline. She looked up, meeting Sam’s eyes. “I’m sorry,” She whispered.

Sam’s lips pressed together for a moment. “Andy you didn’t do anything wrong.” He reached up and cupped the side of her face with one hand, his thumb smoothing over her cheek in a gentle caress, his eyes warm on her face. “It was my fault.  I’m so sorry.”

Andy shook her head. Her resolve from earlier that day holding. She forgave him utterly. He had hurt her, but she had hurt him too. Five months away had given her a lot of time to think, and she knew that neither of them was entirely innocent in their breakup. What she wanted now more than anything was to move on, to move forward. Preferably to move forward with Sam, but she would find a way to move forward without him if she had to. “It’s okay.” She said, holding his gaze.

Sam’s face looked wary, like he couldn’t quite believe the words coming out of her mouth. “I—“

“No,” she interrupted. “You said it meant nothing. I believe you.” She took another sip of piping hot coffee to steady her nerves. “I want to move forward, Sam. Can you forgive me?”

He looked utterly baffled, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes. “For what?”

Andy shrugged helplessly, _where to begin?_ “For leaving, for not calling you, for forgetting to refill my fire extinguisher and burning down my build—“

Her list was cut off as his lips claimed hers.

Andy’s mug hit the floor with a loud thunk, spilling hot coffee across the tile, but she didn’t care. She slid her hands up over his broad shoulders, pulling him to her.

His own hands came up to cup her cheeks, holding her head at the perfect angle as his lips teased her with sweet, hungry kisses.

Desire flared in her belly. Her hands slid lower, pulling his hips towards hers as she pressed against him. _God how I missed this_. Her fingers tugged at his shirt, wanting to feel his skin again.

As suddenly as he had started, Sam pulled back. “Andy!” He groaned, breathing in harsh, short pants. “Wait.”

Her hands stilled, and then dropped back to support her against the table. She tried to look away, embarrassed heat rising in her face. Last night she’d walked out on him mid-conversation because five months ago he had a one night stand, now she was practically trying to fuck him over breakfast. _What is wrong with you?_ She chastised herself.

Sam tilted her head up with gentle hands. “Not like this.” He said in a strained voice that told her this restraint was killing him just as much as it was killing her.

She knew what he meant, ‘not yet,’ but still she could have cried from frustration. Didn’t he know this was how she coped? That fucking him senseless would erase the darkness of the last seventy two hours, hell, of the last six months, if only for an hour. He didn’t want to take advantage of her, and intellectually she knew that was part of why she loved him. But she wanted him to take advantage right now, wanted it so hard she thought she might come apart at the seams if he didn’t.

He let go of her and took a step back, his foot landing in the puddle made by her spilled coffee. His mouth curled into a smirk, “I’ll go get a mop.” 


	9. Empty Spaces

 

"Andy!" Traci practically launched herself at Andy the moment the brunette stepped out of Sam's doorway. "Oh my _God_ I missed you."

Andy hugged her back, feeling a wave of affection for her friend. She realized she'd missed Traci too, though she'd spent most of her time away too worried about her own life or bogged down by guilt for the role she'd played on the day of Jerry's death to really let herself think fondly of Traci over the last several months. "How are you?" she asked, stepping back so she could see Traci's face.

Traci smiled, but her eyes didn't light up the way they used to. There were new lines around her mouth, carved, Andy thought, by grief. "I miss him." She said in a choked sort of voice before shaking her head and beaming at Andy, "But today we're going shopping!"

Deciding they both need a day without dealing with the heaviness of real life, Andy rolled her eyes and half-heartedly grumbled about how much she hates shopping. Her ploy did the trick and Traci spent the next thirty minutes trying to coax Andy into being excited to replace her entire wardrobe in a single afternoon.

Andy listened with half an ear, despite her best intentions, her own problems were not so easily pushed back into their box. Sam had only just left the room in search of a mop when Traci rang the bell and Andy, not wanting Traci to pick up on the weird tension between her and Sam, had called a brief goodbye before practically sprinting out the door. The most reasonable part of her mind told her she should have asked Traci to wait and gone to talk to Sam, but she'd never really been good at listening to that part of her, especially when it came to all things Sam.

"Are you okay?" Traci asked as they climbed out of her car in front of Starbucks.

Such a simple question, such a complicated answer. Andy forced a smile she didn't feel and nodded. "Fine." She said, though as soon as the words left her lips she wondered if it was a lie. She didn't feel fine. Her stomach was a knot of some unidentifiable emotion, she felt a little like she might be sick. But this was Traci, her best friend and confident, which meant Andy would lie her ass off rather than admit to all the things racing through her mind.

 A familiar, and very unwelcome, blonde head suddenly appeared in the doorway of Starbucks, a cup of coffee in one hand, cell phone in the other.

"I invited Gail," Traci said with a apprehensive glance at Andy.

"Great." Andy said half under her breath, unable to totally mask the sarcasm.

Traci gave her a warning look before waving to Gail. "Be nice." She hissed.

" _There_ you are." Gail said, stopping a few feet away, tucking her phone into the front left pocket of her jeans. "You look awful," She said, giving Andy a once-over, her sharp blue eyes catching the dark circles under Andy's eyes and the lower lip reddened from frequent gnawing.

"Thanks Gail, nice to see you too." Andy grumbled. She and Gail had never had a traditional kind of friendship.  Gail was prickly and defensive, and Andy wasn't one to push in where she felt she wasn't wanted. Still, they had figured out a way to coexist, and even have fun together, and Andy had thought they were friends. But then Gail had slept with Sam, and now... well, she wasn't really sure what to think. She tried to lock the memory of Sam confessing he'd fucked Gail into a dark corner of her mind, but it wouldn't go.

"I think she needs coffee," Traci said, tilting her head unsubtly towards the Starbucks.

Andy followed, mostly ignoring the light, meaningless chatter between Traci and Gail. There was a battle going on in her mind between her desire to slap Gail across the face and her desire to just forget it had ever happened so she and Sam could pick up where they left off this morning. One of these days they were going to finish their talk, and then she was stripping him naked and fucking him on every surface in his townhouse. She smiled at the thought. Oh yes, for the prospect of Sam beneath her, on top of her, _in_ her again, she was pretty sure she could forgive Gail Peck for just about anything.

The blonde laughed at something Traci said and a bolt of jealous anger shot through Andy. _Well.. maybe not anything._

 

 

“What do you think?” Gail asked giving a playful twirl in the too tight, too low-cut, too short dress, the playful smile on her face making it evident she was joking. “New uniform?”

Traci laughed. “Can you imagine the look on Frank’s face?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing every guy at fifteen hasn’t seen before.” Andy muttered bitterly.

Gail’s smile faded, her blue eyes wide with hurt, like a small child who has been struck without knowing what she did wrong. She stepped back into the change room without another word and shed the dress. Ignoring the other items she had intended to try on, Gail pulled on her jeans and t-shirt.  Tears stung at the corners of her eyes and she dug her right fingernails into her left palm as hard as she could, the pain clearing her head.  _So, he told her_ , she thought  shaking her head slightly. She’d really hoped Sam would just keep his mouth shut, but she should have known better.

Sam was one of those genuinely good guys, even if he had the emotional maturity of a dish cloth. It wasn’t in him to keep something like this to himself. He probably thought he was doing the right thing by all of them. Taking a deep steadying breath, Gail stepped out into the shop. 

Andy was leaning against the wall, arms crossed mutinously across her chest.

Gail hesitated only a second before calling out a lame excuse to Traci and grabbing Andy’s elbow, propelling her out into the mall.

“What are you--?” Andy sputtered, trying to pull out of Gail’s iron grip.

“Shut up.” Gail said, dragging Andy around a corner and pushing her into a handicapped bathroom – one of the solitary ones that locked.

Once they were inside with the door shut Gail let go of Andy. “Look.” She said before Andy could speak. “We were drunk and it meant _nothing_.”

Andy snorted. “Just one more for work-sex bingo?”

Gail wasn’t sure whether she wanted to hit Andy, or laugh. There was hurt in there somewhere too, _how dare Andy call her a slut?!_ , but mostly she was pissed.

“Or is it more like Pokemon? Gotta catch them all?”  

This time Gail laughed. It was a sharp, mirthless laugh, but it let off some steam so she could actually think. She did not want to have this conversation. She didn’t want to think about that night, or what followed. She  wanted everyone else to forget. Maybe if they forgot she could too. Her heart clenched and she knew she would never forget. There were some things no woman can banish utterly from her mind, no matter how many tiny boxes she tries to shove it in to. But no one knew the part that kept her up at night, and as far as Gail was concerned no one need ever know.

“You left him.” She said in as calm a voice as she could manage, getting straight to the pertinent facts – the facts that she had clung to and recited over and over again those months ago when the consequences of her stupidity had lain heavy on her heart. “He didn’t cheat on you.”

Andy’s eyes were narrowed and her nostrils flared with anger, but for the moment she kept her peace and let Gail’s excuses fill the space between them.

“He’s not Luke.“

“I’m sure it’s only a matter of time until you get around to him too.”

Gail clenched her fist and her jaw and for a moment just stood, anger washing over her in waves, making her want to say the things she promised herself she would never tell anyone, just to see their impact. _If only you knew_ , she thought cruelly. But no, it wasn’t worth it. Her own heart couldn’t bear Nick knowing, let alone Andy, or worst of all, _Sam_. “We did nothing wrong.” She said through clenched teeth. “You. Left. Him. Deal with it.”

Without a word, though fury radiated from her, Andy stepped around Gail and reached for the door.

Gail didn’t try to stop her. She couldn’t. Her entire body felt drained, like she’d just run a marathon or survived a shootout. She sagged against the wall, allowing one tear and then another to course down her face. It was too much. The last six months had been too much, and she couldn’t hold it in any more. A sob tore itself from her throat and she sank to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest.

Ten minutes later Traci’s head peaked around the door and in seconds she was at Gail’s side, a motherly arm slung around Gail’s shoulder. Neither of them paying the slightest attention to the fact that they were in a public washroom.

Traci stroked Gail’s hair soothingly and held her as she cried. Her mind whirled trying to figure out what had happened. She couldn’t remember ever seeing Gail shed a single tear, yet here she was, curled up on the floor, sobbing as if her entire body wanted to shatter to pieces.

Andy stood outside the door, her head leaning back against the wall. Guilt had settled firmly on her chest and she wanted nothing more than to outrun it. But she forced herself to wait as Traci had ordered her to.

After what felt, to Andy, like an eternity, Traci emerged from the restroom, her arm wrapped around Gail’s shoulder. She fixed Andy with a disapproving look before releasing her hold on Gail and turning to look the blonde in the eyes, “Are you sure you don’t want me to drive you?”

Gail shook her head. “No, I’m fine.” She said in a hoarse voice. “Thanks.” She did not look at Andy as she turned and disappeared into the afternoon crowd . 

Traci barely waited for Gail to disappear from view before turning on Andy. “What did you say to her?”

“I—“ Andy flushed. She barely remembered the words that had left her mouth, but she was sure they were well deserved. “She _slept_  with _Sam_!”

Traci’s eyes widened in a moment of surprise before returning to their disapproving-mom look. “She slept with a man you were not dating, and so you thought the appropriate reaction was to make _Gail Peck_ cry?”

Andy shuffled her feet, but stubbornly kept quiet.

“Let me remind you of a few things you might have forgotten while you were off on the taskforce,” Traci’s voice was tinged with bitterness. She knew she had made the right decision not going, but there was a part of her that wished desperately that she, rather than Andy, had been on that bust. “Chris Diaz has a baby and is still considering  transferring and going to work in Timmins. Not quite seven months ago, Gail Peck was kidnapped and drugged and very nearly killed by a deranged taxi driver.” She didn’t mention Jerry, although a lump rose in her throat and it was a moment before she could continue. “Nick Collins disappeared without so much as a word to Gail, who he was actually dating at the time. Gail was forced to testify in the trial of her attacker and her face and story were plastered all over every newspaper in Southern Ontario for weeks. And you are upset because she _slept with Sam Swarek_? A man who is so obviously in love with you that it makes the rest of us a little sick. Can you see why I’m having trouble taking your side?”

It took a moment for Andy to find her voice. Traci had never spoken to her like that. They had been friends for three years and she was used to Traci always being in her corner, ready to offer a half mocking critique when Andy did something especially stupid, but always understanding and loving. This Traci was someone entirely different. But, Andy had to admit, she had a point. Andy didn’t know what had happened over the last five months. She’d given a sworn deposition for the trial so she could stay under cover and they were too busy to pay much attention to the media scrutiny. She’d also forgotten somehow, in all the chaos of homecoming, the fire and Sam, that Chris and Denise had a son. She imagined if Luke showed up with a kid one day, her stomach forming and icy knot. It would hurt, and she and Luke had not retained anything like the friendship that Gail and Chris seemed to share. For the first time, she realized how selfish she had been. “I’m sorry.” She murmured.

Traci opened up her arms for a hug and Andy gratefully accepted. “I know,” Traci said, her voice warmer now. “Now let’s get you some clean clothes. If I see you in those jeans for another minute I might cry myself.”

Andy looked down at the admittedly ratty jeans with a sheepish smile and followed Tracy back into the milling crowds of Eaton Center. 


	10. The Catalyst

 

"How's it going?"

Jo looked up at Frank and tried to conceal her frustration. She shouldn't be working out of fifteen, really she wasn't even sure if she should be the one working this case. If she'd known when she got the call that it was Andy McNally of all people who might be wrapped up in the fire, she would have plead sick. Unfortunately, all Frank had told her on the phone was that one of his officers lived in the building and it was a conflict of interest for Traci Nash and everyone else was busy. Her own case load was light, and frankly rather boring, since she'd transferred from homicide to Fraud so she hadn't hesitated to agree. And now she was in it, the only way to get out of it was to plead conflict of interest, which would mean telling HQ things she was perfectly happy they didn't know. So here she was, sifting through the fire marshal's final report, looking for something, anything, to indicate McNally wasn't to blame so she could get the hell out of there.

"Slow." She snapped, hoping he would take the hint and leave her in peace. 

He didn't.

Instead he stepped inside and closed the door. "What does it say?" He asked, nodding towards the documents open in front of her.

She gave him a long hard stare before responding vaguely. "Nothing good."

"Look, Rosati," Frank said in his best Staff Sergeant voice, "I appreciate your discretion, but I need to know what is going on. I'm running short staffed, our numbers are down and McNally's leave is over on Monday. I need to know if I can bring her back."

Jo sighed and pushed out the chair opposite her with her foot. "Take a seat."

Frank sat, watching her patiently.

"It doesn't look good. The smoke detector in her unit was tampered with. There were no batteries in the independent detector in the kitchen, and the building's hard wired system was disconnected inside her unit and in the hall outside." Jo set out the captioned pictures the fire marshal had included with his report one at a time as she listed off their findings. "The fire marshal report indicates the fire started in the oven, which matches McNally's story, but they also say even left for an hour on five hundred Fahrenheit, a tray of cookies wouldn't cause that kind of fire. Either the oven was tampered with, or McNally makes her cookies with fire-starter."

Frank ran a hand over his face. "Could anyone else...?"

"McNally said no one but Nash had access to her apartment. I questioned Nash yesterday, she said she went in once, right after McNally went undercover to throw out all of the perishables and hasn't been there since. Building lobby security feed is only kept for about month at a time, but Nash definitely wasn't in the building in the last four weeks."  Jo's voice softened, "Look, Frank, I'm doing what I can, but--"

"I know." He interrupted. "That's why I wanted you on this. Keep me posted?"

Jo nodded, gathering the pictures and placing them back in order. "I'm going to need to bring her in again." She said as Frank rose to his feet.

"Keep it quiet?" He asked.

Jo knew what he meant. So far the press hadn't sniffed out that a cop owned the unit where the fire began. The longer they would keep that quiet, the better for both McNally and the service at large. "I’ll do what I can." She said, though she wasn't sure how much that would be at this point. Three days in and so far every piece of evidence seemed to point conclusively to McNally. Yet, despite the fact that she had put people in jail for twenty years on less evidence, Jo was reluctant to take the next step. There was something off about the evidence. It was too perfect.

Jo had learned the hard way that perfect was usually anything but.  With a frustrated sigh she slapped the file closed and rose to her feet. There had to be something she was missing.

 

**November 2012**

St. Catharines, Ontario

"What kind of asshole deals with being rejected by the woman he loves by sleeping with her friend?"

"Most men?" Sarah asked with a warm, teasing smile.

Sam glared at her. He hadn't intended to spill his guts to his sister, but he couldn't say no to her. She'd been through a lot and when she asked him what was wrong, thrusting a tumbler half full of whiskey into his hands, he had told her everything.  Besides, it wasn't like he could tell anyone else. He could just imagine Oliver's face if he knew Sam had slept with Gail. His friend had forgiven a lot, but Sam wasn't sure anyone but Sarah could forgive him for this. "Helpful."

"I try." She teased reaching for the nearly empty bottle of Crown Royal. "Are you going to tell her?"

"I have to." He said simply, holding out his glass for a refill.

She smiled at him, all teasing gone from her face. "And that is why you're not like most men. Andy is lucky to have you."

Sam snorted.

"She is."

Sam sank back against the soft leather couch. "She could do better. She _should_ do better."

Sarah watched her brother with narrowed eyes for a moment. He looked tired, and five years older than when she'd seen him last. It made sense. He'd been through a lot in the last couple months. She'd never met Jerry Barber, but she felt like she had; she'd heard so many stories. She knew the loss had hit Sam harder than he would ever admit, perhaps even more than he realized. He had never been much for vocalizing his feelings.

It was her fault. Growing up with a sister who was afraid of everything, Sam had grown up way too fast. He'd been her rock and she would forever be grateful to him. She only wished she could find a way to show him she was okay and that he was allowed not to be once in a while.

He had never let her meet Andy, but she'd know about her long before Sam had ever admitted to dating her. Hearing him calling Andy 'the woman he loves' was definitely a first, even if she'd suspected as much for well over a year.

"Sam, listen to me." She said at last, waiting until his eyes met hers before continuing. "Everyone makes mistakes. You did something stupid, no one is going to argue with that, but one mistake doesn't have to ruin your life." She could read skepticism in his eyes and wondered just what else had happened to make her usually confident and resilient baby brother so afraid to hope. "You had sex with the wrong person, it's not like you killed her dog or burned down her apartment. Tell her. If she's the woman for you, she will get over it."

"And if she doesn't?"

Sarah put down her glass and moved to sit beside her brother on the couch. She snuggled into his side. "You’ll always have me." 

Sam draped an arm over his sister’s shoulders in a half hug. As much as he loved her. He didn’t take much comfort in her assurance. There were some voids even the best sister in the world could not fill. The one left in his life without Andy was definitely one of them. Still, he tried to take comfort in her matter of fact view of his idiocy. It gave him hope that it might not be so unforgivable after all. Now if only he knew where Andy was and when he could see her again.

He couldn’t help but wonder if she missed him as much as he missed her, as much as he feared the answer was no. He told himself that even if she never wanted to speak with him again, he would be happy just having her back at fifteen, but he knew it was a lie.

**April 2013**

Sam’s townhouse, Toronto

Sam tossed the mop back into the closet with more force than necessary. It didn't ease the frustration coursing through his veins, making him wish he had a punching bag or a target to shoot at. Mopping the floor didn't quite cut it. He couldn't decide whether to thank or curse Nash's timing. On one hand, she had probably stopped them both from doing something they would have regretted, on the other, there were so many things to say and once again, life had come in to pull them apart. At this rate Andy would have her own place and he would lose his chance to show her everything that was in his heart.

He still couldn't believe she'd forgiven him. For months he had been dreading her return as much as he longed for it, sure that the moment she found out she would walk away for good. He would have deserved it. No matter what Sarah had said, he knew his behaviour was reprehensible. But she had said they were okay, and he would have to be a much greater fool than he was to reject that forgiveness.

Now all he needed was a way to show Andy that her trust in him wasn't misplaced. The only problem was that he didn't have the first clue how to do that.

He remembered his desperate rambling five months ago. He’d promised to take out her garbage, walk her dog… Stupid little things. No wonder she hadn’t really believed him, no wonder she’d jumped at the chance to leave. He’d been such a fool. Not just then, but almost every day since she had burst through that apartment door and into his life three years ago. There were so many moments he would go back and change if he could, but most of all, he regretted that night. The rainy night he had given up on himself. He knew Andy thought he had given up on her, or worse, blamed her for Jerry, but he knew it was something much more personal than that.

Somewhere along the line, between worrying about Andy’s safety, worrying about his own inadequacies, and trying to be something he wasn’t sure he was capable of being he had stopped trusting his gut. Because of that, Jerry was dead. He didn’t blame Andy, he blamed himself. And somehow, he convinced himself that the only way he could get back to the cop, to the man, he needed to be to deserve her, he had to leave her. No wonder she didn’t understand. He wasn’t sure he understood it himself.

 And then there had been that moment, the moment he realized what a fool he had been to let her get away. Admittedly, his timing could have been better. If he wasn’t a complete idiot he might have figured it out weeks, months, years earlier. He loved her. And seeing her, eyes filled with terror, hands holding a bomb so an innocent young girl could get away safely, he hadn’t been able to keep it in. He almost hadn’t realized what he said until the words were out.

She hadn’t believed him.

Why would she? He certainly hadn’t acted like he loved her after Jerry’s death. He’d done what he had always done, ever since he was nine years old, he locked his feelings away and pretended everything was fine. Now, she was back. She was _here_. Even after he had given her every reason to run. This was his last chance, he knew, to prove to her that he loved her, always had, always would.

There was one thing he could do. Something he should have been doing with Andy this morning, rather than kissing her, something Jo Rosati had told him to do two days earlier: He could find another suspect.

He picked up his laptop and carried it into the living room. Andy didn’t do this. He knew that to the bottom of his soul. If the evidence was saying she did, there had to be something that didn’t add up, and Sam wasn’t about to leave it to Jo Rosati to figure out what. that was

\---

Jo killed the engine with a flick of her wrist and pulled the keys out of the ignition. She wasn't sure exactly what she hoped to find, but her gut told her there was something she was missing, and so here she was. She stepped out onto the asphalt and almost dropped her keys in surprise. Climbing out of his shiny silver truck not ten meters away was Sam Swarek.

Blood pounding in her ears, Jo set off across the parking lot. "What the hell do you think you're doing?" She snapped as soon as she was within earshot.

Swarek had the grace to look caught-out, even if he looked every inch a mutinous toddler more than a chagrined adult.

"You know that if you talk to any of them you could compromise the entire investigation, right?" Jo added.

Sam gave her an incredulous look. "I was one of the responding officers, I'm following a lead."

Jo bit her lip to keep from saying something unprofessional. She couldn't believe him! She remembered the first time she'd met Sam Swarek. She'd been impressed. He as professional and seemed to have done well in the crisis, and she'd naively thought how nice it was to see a TO who still gave a crap about his rookie. She hadn't suspected anything untoward, after all he'd managed to keep his distance the entire time she was at the crime scene. But then there was the Laundromat fire... The day she had confirmed a niggling suspicion she had been ignoring, that Sam Swarek was madly in love with his ex-rookie, perhaps even more than he knew. She supposed she should have expected this from him.  "Fine." She snapped, "but I am doing the talking. You can stand there, listen and take notes. You open your mouth and I will..." She paused for a moment trying to come up with a threat she was willing to enforce, "tell Frank." She finished lamely.

Sam held up his hands in surrender. "Whatever you say detective."

 


	11. In Between

 

_Geez, where were **these** firemen the last few fires I worked?_ Jo wondered, taking a moment just to appreciate the smorgasbord of perfect manliness before her. When she was sure she wasn’t going to accidentally drool all over herself when she tried to open her mouth she strode into the room, Sam following a few feet behind her.

“Can I help you?” A tall, blonde fireman who looked, in Jo's opinion, more like a model than any man had a right to, asked blocking their path. He was smiling, but there was no missing the intensity of his eyes, or the fact that his muscular frame was effectively blocking them from proceeding further into the firehouse.

Jo flashed her badge, wishing Sam wasn't with her. As a beautiful woman working detective, she had learned just when to bat her lashes to get the truth out of a man. A uniformed male partner was a cramp in her style she did not need. "Jo Rosati, detective working out of fifteen division. I just have a few questions about the fire your crew responded to the evening of April 27. Is there someone from that crew we can speak with?"

"Adam Lessard." He said, holding out a hand. "I was on that crew."

Jo shook his hand and nodded her head towards Sam. "This is Officer Swarek, he was first on the scene."

Adam and Sam shook hands. "I remember." Adam said, giving Sam a suspicious glance. "Weren't you the one who took the woman in unit 208 from the scene?"

Sam raised an eyebrow. He vaguely recognized the man as the firefighter who had been speaking with Andy at the scene. "Yes." He said abruptly.

"How is she?"

"Fine."

Adam flashed his hundred megawatt smile. "Glad to hear it. It's not easy losing your home like that." He turned his attention back to Jo. "Did you want to move this into an office?"

"It shouldn't take long." Jo said, shaking her head no.

"Okay." Adam rocked back on his heels a little, placing both hands in his pants pockets. "Fire away." He smirked at his own word choice.

Jo started with a series of basic questions, all of which she already knew the answers to from the report. She was here on a hunch. She knew it was a long shot, but if any of Adam's words didn't match the report, maybe she could find the shred of reasonable doubt the defense lawyer would need to get McNally off.

She could feel Sam's tension. Part of her wondered why he was here, what question had driven him to risk a protocol breach. For all she suspect him to be a complete fool when it came to all things Andy McNally, she didn't think badly enough of him to suspect that he would purposefully try to throw off her investigation. He had to know that Frank would have no choice but to fire him, or send him to some division on the outskirts of the city where they sent anyone they couldn't justify letting go, if he tried to taint their findings. So what did he know?

Curious as she was, she wasn't about to ask him here in front of the fire fighter. So she stuck to her prepared list of questions, covering every angle of the fire marshal's report, hoping for something to jump out at her.

“None of this explains why it took you almost fifteen minutes to respond.” Sam snapped, interrupting Jo md-question.

Jo gave him a look, but kept her mouth shut, waiting for Adam to respond, her mind filtering through the report, trying to remember if anything about the response time had seemed off to her.

"Hey!" Adam said, his handsome face tight with ill-concealed irritation. "I know the woman who owned that unit is one of yours, but that doesn't give you the right to come in here and accuse us of not doing our jobs."

"Forgive him," Jo said in a half whisper, "He's just excited to be allowed to work a real case." She mouthed 'Traffic cop.' and was rewarded with the appearance of a dimple in Adam's left cheek as he tried to hold back a grin.

"I remember that day," Adam said, addressing Sam's question, this time without the defensive tone. "It was a slow day. We were all in the station when the call came in. We got in the truck right away and were on scene as fast as we could." He shrugged.

Jo made a few notes on her pad. "Can you think of anything else we should know?"

Adam looked around as if to make sure no one else at the station was listening in. "Look, if the smoke detectors hadn't been disabled the alarm company would have notified us as soon as the alarm went off. Judging by the damage, that would have gotten us there at least ten minutes earlier. It would have saved the first floor apartment that was damaged, might even have saved your girl's place.. at least kept it habitable."

"Thank you." Jo said, taking a step back and deliberately planting one heel on Sam's foot.

He drew a breath in through his teeth, but said nothing.

"I'm sorry I wasn't more help."

Jo smiled. Truth be told she was disappointed. She had had high hopes that today's visit would raise at least a reasonable doubt about McNally's culpability. Instead, it seemed even more than ever that there just wasn't another suspect.

\---

God it had been a long day. His second day back in uniform and already it felt like a straitjacket. Nick began peeling it off the second he stepped through the door to the men's locker room. The buttons fought him just like everything else had today and he resisted the urge to just jerk on it until they came off in his hands. Only the thought of what his fellow officers would think or say if they walked in on him tugging away kept him from giving in to the temptation. At long last it opened under his fingers, slid down his muscular arms and puddled at his feet. He stepped out of his pants, and left the mess to clean up later. Right now he needed a shower, desperately.   

He was pretty sure he had vomit in his hair. It was all he could smell, as if it were permanently stamped on the inside of his nostrils. What he wouldn't give for a nice, sweaty surveillance van about now.

Hot liquid spurted from the shower head, Nick tested the temperature for a moment before stepping underneath. He closed his eyes and for a moment just stood there, letting the water caress his skin, soothing away the kinks in his back, caused by three nights on Gail's hideously uncomfortable sofa bed. He really hadn't expected to be on the couch for this long, if he were perfectly candid with himself. He had rather expected Gail to take one look at his familiar face and lead him to the bedroom. Five months without sex was a long time. He wasn't sure how much longer he was willing to hold out. Waking every morning, rock hard and with the lingering caresses of the brunette beauty who had taken over the leading role in his dreams still lingering in his mind he had resorted to cold showers the last three months. It was more than he thought any man should have to bear.

"I think you're doing it wrong." Dov's voice was tinged with laughter.

Nick opened one eye and glared half-heartedly at his partner for the week through the stream of water cascading down his face. "Now you're an expert on showering too?" He asked peevishly.

Dov rolled his eyes. Frank had asked him to ride with Nick this week while Nick re-acclimated to the mundane reality of everyday police work, and admittedly it had been kind of fun being in charge, but he knew Nick well enough not to take his ire very seriously. "Is that what you're doing? I thought you were trying to drown yourself."

"Ha ha." Nick reached for the soap dispenser on the wall, squirting a generous amount into his palm. He rubbed his hands together until a thick lather formed and then began to rub it all over his body in tight little circles.

Dov found himself watching Nick's hands as they smoothed over the glistening wet of his skin, moving ever so steadily down, down over the tight, dusky nubs of his nipples, down over his washboard abs... He swallowed and turned his head away, a pink flush rising in his cheeks. “You coming to the Penny tonight?” He asked to cover the awkward moment.

“Mmhmm,” Nick hummed in confirmation, turning to let the hot water wash away the soap from his front.

Dov shucked his uniform in quick, efficient motions, grabbing a t-shirt and jeans from his locker and throwing them on with a little more speed than usual. He could hear the patter of the shower water against the tiled floor and his mind would not quite banish the glorious view of Nick's hands gliding over slippery naked skin, and he was acutely aware he hadn't had sex since he and Crystal broke it off three months earlier. There were some things that just weren't the same when you did them yourself.

"Meet you out front?" He called to Nick, doing his best not to look and failing. Nick was facing the wall, rinsing soap out of his short brown hair, his lightly hairy ass thrust slightly out as he bent to get the back of his neck under the spray.

Nick turned off the faucet and turned, giving Dov a full frontal eye-full, "Sounds good." If he noticed the flush in Dov's face or the fact that his partner hadn't blinked once, he didn't let on.

"Ok." Dov said, turning quickly and fleeing the dressing room. _What the hell is wrong with me?_

It wasn't that he hadn't been attracted to a man before. He would never forget that moment early on in their time at the Academy when he had looked across the table at Chris over beers one night and been overwhelmed with a desire to tangle his hands in Chris' soft brown hair and trace the strong lines of Chris' jaw with his lips. He hadn't of course. Chris was straight as an arrow and Dov had no interest pursuing straight men.  But somehow today felt like something different. There was something about Nick that made Dov almost want to break his own rule. Maybe it was the dog tags. Who didn't love a man who'd served in combat? Maybe it was that Nick was with Gail. It was twisted, but it kind of made sense. They were both so beautiful and damaged and totally Dov’s type.

_Gail._ Dov sighed, leaning back against the white walls of the hall outside the men's locker room as he waited for Nick to emerge. The unattainable woman. He had thought he was over her. When he got together with Sue it had seemed like he would be able to put those forbidden feelings aside and if he ignored them enough they would actually disappear. Then, when he'd been with Crystal - who was everything Gail was not - he had convinced himself he had never really loved the icy blonde. But the minute she was in trouble he hadn't been able to stop his heart from trying to leap out of his chest. When Nick had disappeared off to the task force, and Chris had moved in with Denise, it seemed like Gail was always alone, and Dov hadn't been able to stop himself from fantasizing about being the one to be there for her.

She hadn't let him though. Not even during the trial when he knew by the dark circles under her haunted eyes and the extra bite of ire in her usual sarcastic commentary that just getting out of bed in the morning was a struggle. He had tried to talk to her, to get her to share the troubles on her heart with him like he knew she used to do with Chris, but she had shut him down every single time.

Well, almost every time. His heart clenched a little when he remembered her trembling voice, juxtaposed against defensively snapping eyes that clearly told him he would lose his favourite appendage if he dared say a word. She had been very clear she was only telling him because she had to tell someone, and at least he wouldn't try to talk her out of it.

"Ready to go?" Nick asked, waving a hand in front of Dov's face.

Dov smiled, jerked back into a reality that was much more fulfilling than the half-forgotten fantasies in his mind. "Yep." He followed Nick out of the building, trying and mostly failing not to check out the way Nick's jeans hugged the perfect curves of his ass.

 

The Penny was less crowded than usual for a weeknight and they found a table in a back corner easily. Dov sat while Nick went to the bar to grab a pitcher of Red Leaf amber lager and a pair of glasses. As had become habit in three years of frequenting the Penny, Dov scanned the room to see if there was anyone he knew, breathing a small sigh of relief when he saw no one from their rookie year. Oliver was sharing a drink with a blonde whose face Dov couldn't see, but who definitely wasn't Gail, but Dov knew he could depend on Oliver to keep to his own end of the bar except maybe for a quick hi. Tonight there was something Dov wanted to say to Nick, once he had enough liquid courage in his belly, and it would be best if they weren't interrupted.

"How's Gail?" Dov asked when they were partway into their second pitcher and had already exhausted sports, the weather and the general idiocy of the public they served.

Nick spun his glass between his hands for a moment. "She's... acting strange." He said in a thoughtful voice.

Dov took a long swig of beer and waited to see if Nick would elaborate.

He did. "I'm still sleeping on the couch, and she's barely said ten words to me in three days." He looked up at Dov, frustration etched on his face. "She knows I wasn't allowed to tell anyone I was going on the task force, and besides, she was taking off for Europe, I didn't think she'd miss me."

Resisting the urge to roll his eyes took a considerable amount of Dov's self-control. When he spoke he tried his best to keep his voice measured. "She was running away to Europe because she thought she was going to be fired."

Nick acknowledged the truth of that statement with a tilt of his head.

"Plus.. there's that whole thing with Chris and Denise." Dov added, trying to get a reaction.

"So it's my fault her ex-boyfriend knocked up his ex-fiancée and now they're playing house?" Nick asked peevishly.

"No." Dov grit his teeth. Perhaps letting Nick have the better part of two pitchers of beer hadn't been the best tactic. "Look… some stuff happened while you were gone."

Nick set down his glass and gave Dov what was probably supposed to be a threatening look.

Dov shook his head. He had promised Gail he wouldn't tell anyone, and he wasn't about to break that promise, even if he thought it was stupid she hadn't told Nick. They were living together, and this wasn't the kind of thing you kept secret from a man sharing your bed. Dov shoved down a pang of jealousy. Yeah, Nick was sleeping with Gail, but she had told her secret to Dov. The thought made his heart clench slightly in his chest. He couldn't believe he'd thought he loved Crystal. Compared to Gail she was.. nothing. Someone in the past year he'd come full circle, only the last five months Gail was single, and it had taken all of Doc's self-restraint not to fling himself down in front of her and beg her to give him a chance to show her what real love looked like.

"What _stuff_?" Nick asked when Dov remained silent.

"Ask her." Was all Dov would say, part of him hoping Gail wouldn't say, that their conversation all those months ago had meant as much to her as they had to him. But he loved her, and he knew that loving someone meant letting them be happy. Even if it was a really hard thing to do.

"I will." It sounded like a challenge.

Dov took a sip of his beer and replied in as light a tone as he could manage. "Good."

 


	12. The Little Things Give You Away

 

The apartment was completely dark when Nick let himself in. His head was spinning a little from the beer and his conversation with Dov. He didn’t bother turning on any lights, just toed off his shoes, tossed his bag and coat in the closet and stumbled over to the couch that was his bed right now. _Some stuff happened while you were gone_. Dov’s words repeated themselves in his mind as he stretched out on the couch. The thousands of possibilities ricocheted off the inside of his skull, each more preposterous than the one before. He had promised to talk to Gail, and he knew now he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he did.

Sighing heavily, Nick rose to his feet and crossed the apartment , pausing for a long moment in front of Gail’s closed bedroom door before raising his fist and knocking. “Gail? Are you awake?”

He could hear movement on the other side of the door, but the light stayed of and she didn’t come to open it.

“Gail?” He tried again. “I know it’s late, but we need to talk.”

The door came open so suddenly Nick took a step back. He could only just make out the familiar lines of Gail’s face in the pale light filtering in from the city outside, but even in the dimness he could tell her cheeks were damp with tears. Without even thinking about it, he raised one hand to cup her face, wiping away a tear with his thumb. “What happened?” He asked softly, tucking her shoulder length hair behind her ears with gentle fingers so he could better see her face.

She shook her head. “Nothing.” She said in a hoarse voice. “I’m fine.” She stepped back, severing contact, and folded her arms over her chest. She cleared her throat and when she talked again all the emotion was gone from her voice. This was the Gail he had been sharing an apartment with the last few days, cool, detached, and only barely concealing her anger. “You wanted to talk?”

“It can wait.” He reached out for her, but she took another step back, almost disappearing into the shadows of her room. “Tell me what happened.”

“I said it was nothing.”

“Gail…”

“Leave it!” She snapped, her control slipping for a moment, anger suffusing her voice.

It was not a request, and before Project Dakota, Nick probably would have let her have her way. He and Gail only worked when he didn’t push her too hard. He had always depended on the Peck bluntness to get the better of her if there was something she wasn’t happy about. But five months in a van with Andy McNally had taught him that some women didn’t share their thoughts so easily, and made him realize that the Gail he knew years ago, the one he had once wanted to marry, didn’t exist anymore. This Gail was secretive and cut off, and he realized he had been a fool not to notice that earlier.

“No.” He said, taking a step towards her, and then another when Gail didn’t step away. “You’re crying. You don’t cry.” He softened his tone, “Please. I want to be here for you.”

Gail laughed. “Like you were there for me when a man grabbed me from Andy’s apartment? Like you were there five months ago when I thought I was going to lose my job? Oh wait! You mean like how you were there with me for three months of trial and press coverage that made it so I couldn’t even come home without someone bombarding me with questions about it?” Tears flowed freely down her cheeks, she was too angry to check them. 

Nick’s head dropped for a moment, shame washing over him. “You’re right.” He said softly. “I was a dick.” He looked back up at her, hoping she could see the earnest intensity in his eyes even in the mostly dark apartment. “But I’m here now. I’m right here and I want to make it up to you.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her words stung, but he knew it was no more than he deserved. “Okay.” He turned to leave, resolving to start apartment hunting in earnest first thing the next day.

“Where are you going?”

He stopped and turned back to her, a spark of hope building inside his chest. “I thought…”

“I said I didn’t want to _talk_.” Gail said, holding out one hand towards him.

In two steps Nick had her in his arms, her familiar body pressed against his chest, her scent filling his nose as he buried it in her silky hair. Gail’s lips found his and there was an urgency in her kisses he had never felt before.

“I missed you.” Gail panted, tugging at the bottom of his shirt.

Nick raised his arms letting her push it up over his head. This was a new side of Gail. She’d never been a prude, but he was used to taking the lead in this department. He wasn’t sure what to think of this woman raking her nails down his bare back as she laved his dusky nipple with her tongue sending a jolt of pleasure to his groin.   _Oh my!_

She moved her mouth to the other nipple, leaving the first wet, cold and wanting. Nick had never appreciated the sensitivity of his nipples before. A jealous voice in his head asked why Gail was suddenly a nipple-girl, but then she clamped her teeth down over the over-sensitized flesh and all thought but that this was something he didn’t want to stop were flushed from his mind.

He reached for the buttons on the front of Gail's shirt only to have his wrists captured in her surprisingly strong hands.

"No." She said in a husky voice. She took a sudden step back, keeping his wrists trapped in her grip but otherwise severing contact. Her eyes were guarded and her sensuous mouth set in a thin line. “Keep your hands to yourself. This isn’t about you.”  The last part was said under her breath, as if it was for her ears alone.

Nick stopped trying to touch her, letting his hands fall limp in her grasp.

Gail released his wrists and busied her hands with his belt, her mouth returning to his chest.

\---

“You’re going in today?” Andy asked as Sam tossed an apple and a bag of Fritos into his duffel bag.

Sam looked up, his dark eyes holding hers for a silent moment before he answered. “Yeah. You okay here?”

“Can I borrow your truck?” Andy asked, unconsciously gnawing at her bottom lip. She knew what his truck meant to him, but she had things to do and wasting half her day on the TTC was not how she wanted to spend the day. “I have some insurance stuff to take care of.” The lie tripped off her tongue with surprising ease. Maybe she had learned something from her months on the task force after all.

“Can you be ready in five?” Sam asked, screwing a lid onto his travel mug.

Andy jumped up and, acting on impulse, kissed him briefly on the lips as she passed him. “Three minutes is all I need.” She called as she disappeared in the direction of her room.

Sam watched her go, his brain turning over her request slowly, trying to decide if he should call her on the lie. He knew full well that she had finished all of her calls to insurance the day after the fire and there was no way they had gotten back to her this soon. On the other hand, if she was lying to him, he told himself she had a good reason.  She must. _Right?_ His inner voice did not sound sure.

“Ready.” Andy said, flashing the brightest smile he had seen from her in months.

His heart flipped in his chest and he knew he would let the lie slide. After everything, she deserved to be happy and he was content just witnessing her joy. “Keys,” He said, holding them out to her.

"I get to drive?" Andy asked, her eyes sparkling with delight.

Sam nodded, fighting a smile of his own. She was so cute when she was excited. Part of him wondered why he hadn't let her drive more often. Then again, if he had, she probably wouldn't be this excited. He followed her out to the truck, pushing down the questions he wanted to ask about what exactly she was going to do with his truck that she didn't want him to know about.

Andy cranked the radio,  some cheery top 40 song  that made Sam roll his eyes at her as she sang the five words she knew at the top of her lungs. She felt good today, better than she had in months, better than she had since Jerry died and everything changed.

It didn’t make sense. Her perfect apartment was gone and she was being accused of setting the fire, she wasn’t allowed to work, and  if something didn’t change soon she may never be. Sam slept with Gail, and she wasn’t sure if she would ever be able to erase the image of them from her mind long enough to forgive him. And yet, despite it all, she felt light and _happy._  

She had a plan. It wasn’t a perfect plan. It would take all her charm and a truckload of luck, but it was a plan.

Sam watched Andy out of the corner of his eye the entire drive. She wasn’t much of a singer, but he thought he could listen to her for hours if it meant she would look this happy. The truck rolled to a stop at a red light and Andy flashed him a broad smile.   _I love you_. For a moment Sam thought he might have said the words aloud, they had risen unbidden to his mind, but then the light turned green and Andy’s attention returned to the road and he swallowed the words. Now was not the time. Last time he’d told her he loved her she hadn’t even believed him. The next time he said it, the timing was damned well going to be right.

Andy pulled into a parking spot in front of fifteen division but didn’t kill the engine. It was strange being so close but knowing she couldn’t walk through those doors. “Do you want me to pick you up?” She asked.

Sam shook his head. “No, Oliver’ll give me a lift.”

“Okay,” Andy nodded. “Have a good day.”

Sam studied her face for a moment and Andy wondered for a paranoid moment if he knew what she was up to. “You too.” He said at least, leaning in and brushing his lips briefly against hers before pulling back and climbing out of the truck.

Andy watched him until he disappeared into the station, her earlier happy mood deadened by guilt. She knew she couldn’t tell him. If she told him, he would either have to stop her, or might be held responsible for what she was about to do. Still, it felt wrong to colour this far outside the lines without Sam at her side egging her on.

She turned up the radio loud enough to drown out her thoughts and pulled back out into the street. The management office was on the other side of the city and by the time she wove her way through ninety blocks of rush hour traffic and found what seemed like the last full sized parking spot in the lot, she had almost managed to forget all the reasons she should just turn around and go home.

Andy took one last look in the rear view mirror before opening the door of the truck. She looked calm and professional, and with any luck no one would look too closely at her badge.  Frank would send her to Fraud for life if he found out what she was about to do, irony be damned. But it was the only plan she had.

\---

Sam half expected Andy to be gone when Oliver dropped him off after work. The niggling feeling that the something she was hiding had to do with them had refused to leave his mind all day, no matter how many tickets he handed out to irate Toronto drivers or how many times he played their conversation, her forgiveness, over in his brain. He certainly didn’t anticipate walking into a war room.

He stood in the entryway, mouth gaped slightly open, for almost a minute before Andy noticed and beckoned him in. “Sorry about all of this.” She said with a rueful smile, turning back to writing on the blue legal pad balanced on her knee.

“What exactly _is_ all of this?” Sam asked, surveying the stacks of paper covering most of his living room floor.

“Research.” She replied cryptically, not looking up again.

Sam rolled his eyes. For all Andy’s sometimes ceaseless chatter, she was infuriatingly uncommunicative sometimes. “Can I help?”

She held up a finger indicating he should shut up and wait. She wrote a few more words, stared at them, scribbled one out and then rewrote it, her brow furrowed in concentration. Her lower lip was captured between her teeth and Sam couldn’t keep his eyes off her mouth. She had beautiful lips. As much as he teased her about her inability to be silent, Sam had always loved that mouth. Everything about it. Even the ridiculous things that often spewed out.

At last she set down her pen and raised her face to his. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“Can I help?” Sam repeated his question, resisting the urge to tease her. She didn’t look like she was in the mood for a laugh.

“Know anything about building inspections?” She asked, a slightly plaintive note in her voice.

Sam carefully cleared a space on the couch and sat down. “I know a little. What are you looking at?”

Andy reached for a stack of papers and handed them to him. “Reports from my building’s management company. They do checks of the alarm system every six months. These are from the last three years, but I can’t make heads or tails of them.”

Sam could feel his eyebrows rising. He wasn’t sure if he was impressed or alarmed. “How did you get these?” he asked, half-dreading the answer. If Rosati found out Andy was using her badge to look into her case they would all end up stuck behind desks at Fraud for the rest of their short-lived careers.

“I sweet talked the secretary at the management office.” Andy said, looking every bit the cat who ate the canary.

Sam flipped through the papers, his practiced gaze picking up the pertinent details. It looked like three years of reports from six different buildings all run by the same company. He wondered briefly if Rosati had already looked through these, but shrugged it off. Even if she had, what Jo Rosati didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her and a fresh pair of eyes never hurt anyone. “Looking for anything specific?” He asked, snagging a highlighter and a blue pen off the end table.

“I don’t know.” Andy said, moving two stacks of paper off the couch so she could settle beside him. “There’s something here. I know it. I just…”

“Don’t know what yet?” Sam finished for her.

She nodded. “Exactly.”

“Then we better order pizza.” Sam said, pulling his phone out of his pants pocket, “it’s going to be a long night.”

Andy leaned in and planted a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. “Thank you.” She whispered before pulling back and burying herself back in her copy of the building inspection reports.

 


	13. When They Come for Me

 

The building inspection reports revealed no miraculous answer that night. After four hours of scouring the slightly smudged carbon copies all Andy achieved was a blinding headache and a sense that she was missing something really obvious. At one am, Sam stood up and removed a sheaf of paper from Andy’s hands.

“We’re not going to find anything tonight.” He said, setting the paper on the edge of the table and setting both of their pens on top of it before extending his hand to help her up off the floor. “I’ll go over the file again tomorrow, see if anything clicks.”

Andy opened her mouth to protest but a yawn stole her power of speech for a moment and Sam continued, switching to the no-nonsense voice he used with suspects or recalcitrant witnesses. “I know it’s frustrating as hell not being able to go in yourself, but you’re just going to have to trust me.” He hauled her to her feet and planted a quick kiss on her lips before letting her go. “We’re partners, McNally, no matter what Frank says. That means I have you back no matter what.”

Even though a large part of her wanted to scream in frustration, Andy forced her lips into a smile. It wasn’t Sam’s fault, and snarling at him when he was doing everything he could to help her wouldn’t make her feel better. “Thank you.”

Sam looked for a moment like he might kiss her again and Andy felt the stirring of butterflies in her stomach, but then his expression changed and he stepped back. “Get some sleep, McNally. All of this will still be here in the morning.”

“Goodnight.” Andy said, watching his retreating back until he turned down the hall to his bedroom. There was sinking feeling in her gut. They still hadn’t really had the talk she knew they needed to have, and the longer they put it off the more sure she was that Gail wasn’t the only ugly truth Sam had to tell her. Heaving a deep sigh, Andy picked up the sheaf of paper Sam had taken from her moments earlier and carried it to the guest room. If she tried to sleep now all she would be able to do was lay and stare at the ceiling and imagine all of the things Sam wouldn’t want to tell her. Working through the night sounded like a much better plan.

Sam turned the shower to full cold and stepped under the bracing stream of water. After a few moments he readjusted it to a more human temperature. He wouldn’t have Andy stay anywhere else for anything, but having her so close without being able to touch her, hold her, kiss her… it was going to drive him insane.

Logically he knew doing anything right now would be a monumental mistake, but Sam Swarek hadn’t become the cop, or the man, he was by following his logic. He trusted his gut. It was what carried him through tough moments and good ones. But right now his gut was telling him to go into Andy’s room and kiss her until she forgot all of the idiotic things he had done in the last year and he _knew_ without understanding exactly why that doing so was the worst move he could make. Maybe it was the fact that the last time he’d given in to his gut at an inopportune moment she had responded by running away to a dangerous drug task force for months without so much as a text, or maybe he was at last learning a little bit of the wisdom that came with age and a lifetime of impulsive mistakes.

So Sam didn’t barge into Andy’s room and kiss her senseless. Instead he stood in the shower until he was sure she was fast asleep, then, with a final blast of straight cold to remind his traitorous body that _nothing_ was going to happen that night, he turned to his own, too big, too empty bed and tried to sleep.

 

Morning came too soon. Sam knocked the alarm clock on the floor trying to hit the snooze button, rolled out of bed with a curse fumbling for the still shrieking clock with one hand. He was not looking forward to a ten hour shift after only a few hours of sleep, but he tried to comfort himself with the thought that he could get a look at Rosati’s notes and maybe figure out how the building inspections fit into the puzzle. She had asked him to find another suspect, he wasn’t sure they were there yet, but he was banking on Rosati’s distaste for Frank’s yelling to get access to her most recent findings. If they couldn’t find an alternate suspect soon, there would definitely be an overdose of Frank yelling. The Staff Sergeant had a natural hatred for seeing his own officers’ names in the paper for anything less than laudatory. Sam couldn’t, and didn’t really want to, imagine what he would say if Andy was officially accused of arson just one week after the glowing success of the task force. 

Andy was already sitting at the kitchen table, a pen in one hand, a cup of steaming coffee in the other. “Did you sleep at all?”

Andy shook her head without looking up. Her brow furrowed and she crossed something out and then scribbled a few words before lowering the pen and staring intently at the pad in front of her.

Sam poured two bowls of Cheerios and placed one to Andy’s left, setting a spoon and the jug of milk within easy reach before taking a seat on her right and tying in to his own breakfast with gusto. “What are you working on?” He asked when she traded pen for spoon.

“I’m not sure.” She gave the notepad a dirty look as if it should have given her the answer she needed by now. “I’ll let you know if I figure it out.”

Sam smiled and changed the topic. “Do you need the truck today?”

Andy shook her head. “No, I want to read the rest of those reports. There’s something there.. I can feel it.”

Sam felt an irrational surge of pride. It wasn’t long ago that he remembered trying to teach Andy to listen to her gut, at least in those moments where a split second could mean the difference between life and death. Now here she was, telling him she was following a gut feeling while he was tossing and turning the too short nights away, hoping to get his unruly heart and body under control so he didn’t throw her down on the table and tear her clothes off.

“Okay,” he said, rising to put his bowl in the dishwasher. “Text if you need anything.”

Andy nodded without looking up, her pen back in hand she had already lost herself in whatever she had been trying to puzzle out when he got up. Sam forced his eyes away, poured coffee into a travel mug and with a last goodbye which Andy responded to with a distracted “Bye.”, he was out the door and headed to the station.

 

“There’s something here.” Andy muttered, frustration growing. It seemed like she’d been chanting that mantra for days rather than hours. She stood, stretching linked hands above her head and holding until her spine cracked with a satisfying pop. She looked down at the paper. Her graph skills were out of practice, but at this angle she thought she saw _something_.

She picked up the paper, reading her chicken scrawl carefully. Yes, she’d seen it right. She should have seen it hours ago, it was so simple. It was too early to guess what it meant, but something wasn’t right here. “Why on earth would they suddenly do three inspections last year?” She asked the empty room. She reached for the pile of reports again. One anomaly was something, she needed a pattern.

Andy didn’t hear the knock at first. She was too caught up in the thrill of her discovery. Of course she would have to go back through all of the reports and confirm she had the dates, times and buildings correct, but for the first time since she’d smelt that cloud of acrid smoke pouring from her oven, she felt like she might make it out of this with her career intact.

The second knock was accompanied by a loud, authoritative “Toronto Police, open up!” and Andy’s stomach leapt in sudden panic. _Not now!_ She needed one more day. A day to try and figure out what this meant before she showed it to Sam and hopefully to Jo. She wanted her name cleared as quickly as possible, but without a theory or motive, she didn’t have anything substantial enough to knock her name off the top of the suspect list.  

There was another knock and Andy rose quickly to her feet and half jogged to the door. She glanced briefly through the peep hole in the front door before unlatching it, feeling a strange combination of relief and curiosity when she saw Jo Rosati in plain clothes with a cup of Tim Horton’s coffee in one hand standing alone on Sam’s porch looking bored. Andy unchained the door, flipped the deadbolt and opened it.

“McNally, just the woman I was looking for.” Jo’s voice was friendly. “Can we talk?”

Andy wasn’t sure what to make of any of this, but she stepped back and gestured for Jo to enter. “What can I do for you Detective?” she asked, nervousness making it impossible for her to copy Jo’s casual demeanor.

“Extra hot, lots of milk, right?” Jo asked, holding out the coffee to Andy.

Andy took the cup, feeling a little like she’d stepped into an alternate universe without realizing it. A sort of backwards land where she and Jo were friends, and probably one where Andy was really good at baking and Sam was the kind of man who talked about his feelings she mused wistfully, wrapping both hands around the hot paper cup.  “Thanks.” She said in a distracted sort of tone, her mind not quite wrapping itself around whatever the hell this was.

“Look, McNally,” Jo said, stepping past Andy into the house. “I’ve been over your statement a dozen times. I want to go over it with you, if that’s okay. Off the record. See if there’s anything we’re missing.”

Andy blinked, twice. The twilight-zone feeling didn’t dissipate. “Why?” she asked, bluntness born of confusion more than anything else.

Jo shrugged. “Something doesn’t add up, since you insist you didn’t do it…”

“I burnt some cookies. I didn’t intentionally destroy my home.”

“Okay,” Jo said, sinking into Sam’s couch and somehow managing to look like she belonged there which rankled Andy even more than the doubt in Jo’s tone. “So what the hell happened?”

Andy didn’t sit. She didn’t trust Jo at the best of times, and this Jo, the smiling friendly one who brought Andy perfectly prepared coffee and settled into the townhouse Andy still felt like an awkward guest in as if it were her second home, felt like the Trojan horse, and Andy wasn’t going to let her guard down for a second. She leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and took a long sip of coffee – it really was just the way she liked it – and affected a nonchalant pose as best she could while her heart hammered ninety beats a minute and her muscles tensed as if preparing to sprint to safety. “I told you want happened.” Andy couldn’t quite keep the frustration out of her tone.

“You didn’t really tell me much.” Jo said. She pulled a couple sheets of yellow paper from her jeans pocket and read aloud: “Got home around 1130 with groceries, wanted to bake cookies, talked on the phone with Nash for twenty minutes, looking for sweatshirt in bedroom at back of apartment, smelled smoke, fire extinguisher empty, pulled fire alarm and helped with evacuation.” She raised an eyebrow as if to suggest Andy should be able to immediately see what was wrong with that story. “That’s not much to work with.”

Andy took another gulp of coffee to steady her nerves. “It’s the truth.” She said in as sincere a tone as she could manage.

“And there is nothing else?”

“No.” Andy hoped her uncertainty didn’t show on her face. She wasn’t ready to talk about what she thought she’d found this morning. Now when Jo was looking at her like that. Not until she told Sam, so at least when Jo had her thrown in jail she would know there was someone at fifteen picking up where she left off.

“Why didn’t you put out the fire?”

Andy knew she had answered this question before and felt a surge of irritation at Jo’s disbelief, but se cooperated anyway. At least Jo seemed to be entertaining the possibility that Andy was innocent. Without the investigating detective on her side, Andy knew no amount of evidence could be enough to save her career. She was pretty sure that a trial would mean a desk job for the next forty years. She thought she might rather jail. “The flames had already spread outside of the oven, and my first extinguisher was empty.”

“So what _did_ you do?”

“As soon as I realized I couldn’t put it out, I alerted the rest of the building by pulling the central alarm manually and then began an evacuation.”

“If you started the evacuation, why were you one of the last to exit the building?”

“I made sure everyone in the vicinity was out first.” Andy knew she sounded offended, she was. “Even off duty, I’m a cop.” She added indignantly.

“Heavy is the badge.” Jo muttered half under her breath.

Andy grit her teeth. “What should I have done?” she snapped.

“Refilled your fire extinguisher for a start.” Jo snapped back, “and maybe cleaned your oven once in a blue moon. I’ve burned cookies before, I’ve never melted my oven doing so. What’s your secret ingredient? Petroleum? Baking sheet made of Firestarter?”

For a long moment the women glared at each other silently. Eventually Jo dropped her gaze. “I’m sorry, that was out of line.” She looked down at the papers in her hands for a moment. “You mentioned you had had one other fire in your apartment before. Can you tell me about it?”

Face slightly flushed, Andy detailed the first baking disaster in her apartment. When she finished, Jo looked pensive.

“So it was Sam who used the fire extinguisher?”

Andy nodded cautiously, wondering where Jo was going with this.

“Was it because he was closer, or because you didn’t think of it?”

For a moment Andy let the scene play out in her head, but it seemed like it was stuck in fast forward. She remembered scolding Sam about frosting, fretting about getting everything done and the disaster zone that was her kitchen presentable in time for their guests, and then there was smoke pouring out of the oven, the shrieking of the fire alarm and  Sam spraying her oven with the fire extinguisher. “Sam saw the smoke and gabbed the fire extinguisher. We were the same distance from the oven I think, but I had my hands full.” It was the best she could remember, it would have to do. “It was a while ago, I don’t really remember more than a few flashes.” She admitted.

Jo nodded. “Did you have your oven checked out afterwards?”

Andy raised an eyebrow. “Why?” She asked, her confusion answering Jo’s question by default.

“Cakes, like cookies, don’t usually erupt into flames when you over cook them.” Jo suddenly got to her feet. “This isn’t helping. Come with me.”

Andy’s face must have shown her discomfort because Jo rolled her eyes. “I’m not arresting you or anything. I want you to take a look at something that’s been bothering me.”

Warily, Andy followed Jo out into the sunny Toronto morning. 


	14. In My Remains

 

It wasn’t until they turned the last corner before reaching Andy’s apartment that she realized where they were going. In hindsight, it should have been obvious. She blamed her slow realization on the lingering paranoia that, contrary to her word, Jo was planning to drag Andy into fifteen division in handcuffs. Andy may have technically been the woman scorned, but she’d never been able to shake the feeling that Jo still saw herself as Luke’s rightful fiancée and Andy as the _other woman_.

Then again… since Andy had been with Sam she was willing to admit, at least to herself, that she had never loved _Luke_. She had loved the _idea_ of being in love with him, and the way she felt like she was finally living the life she was supposed to live, but Luke himself had been well… incidental? He was nice, handsome, smart, and into her, and she had spent most of their two years together wanting to fuck her partner on top of a squad car, against a wall… really any reasonably flat, safe surface would do. It was probably for the best that Luke and Jo had had their tryst, for all she’d felt every inch the scorned woman at the time. She had barely thought about it for well over a year. It was amazing what really good, totally against the rules sex could do for a girl’s ego. 

Now the real dilemma was if she could get past the fact that Sam hadn’t sat home pining for her for the last five months. She thought she could most days, but then he would pull away and her brain would flood with unwanted images of him with other women, or of Luke and the life she thought she was building until he ‘made a mistake.’ Luke had told her he loved her too… but she had never felt it like she did with Sam. Maybe that was because she’d never loved Luke, but when she wasn’t being completely paranoid, she could see that it wasn’t just on her side that this was special. The way Sam looked at her made her entire insides turn to liquid. Sometimes it _hurt_. The love in his gaze bored into her and it was like her heart was trying to wrench itself free from her chest to fly to nestle next to his. It hurt but she wouldn’t trade that wrenching pain for a million happy relationships with men like Luke. Which really meant she had two choices: forgive and forget, or die alone.

Well… the choice was obvious. But the forgetting part was proving much more difficult that she ever would have thought. In a weird way she was thankful for the insanity following her apartment fire: not grateful that she was being accused of arson, or that her career was potentially over just when it was finally beginning, not grateful even that she was living with Sam. No, she was grateful because it was a case, one she wasn’t really allowed to work, but one she and Sam could solve together. If they could get back to that place, the place where she trusted him with her life, and the lives of all those around her, and the place where he trusted her and himself around her.. if they could get that back, she knew they would be amazing at all the other stuff. She had multiple earth shattering orgasms in her not too distant past to testify to that.

“Andy?” Jo was standing beside the car, looking at Andy with an expression that said this was not the first time she had called Andy’s name. “Are you okay? Is this the first time you’ve been back?”

There was a compassionate understanding underneath Jo’s businesslike demeanor that reminded Andy of their very first meeting. She’d actually liked Jo for the first couple hours of their acquaintance.. before everything went sideways and she learned that the pretty blonde detective was almost engaged to Luke. Andy flashed her a smile. “Yes, this is the first time I’ve been back, but it’s fine. I’ve seen burnt out buildings before.”

Jo looked uncomfortable for a moment and Andy realized the detective probably thoughts Andy was referring to the Laundromat Andy had found herself trapped in two years earlier. She had, but not in any attempt to remind Jo of their early disagreements. “The smell’s the worst and it should have faded a little, right?” She asked climbing out of the car and taking her first good look at the building.

Jo laughed, “a very little. Maybe the bomb sniffing dogs could tell… But no one has been allowed to do cleanup, so it’s going to be a mess.”

Andy nodded, her eyes glued to the exterior. Of course she remembered the day it happened. She didn’t think that was a day she would ever be able to forget, nor would she really want to. There were some mistakes you absolutely did not want to repeat. But it looked somehow different today, worse. Smoke no longer billowed from the windows, flames no longer licked out towards the sky. It was just black brick crumbling away from melted glass, a gnarled mess of distorted materials marring the face of the building that had been her first real home. _That’s the last time I make cookies_ she thought with a touch of black humour. “Let’s get this over with.” She said, taking a step towards the entry.

\---

“ _You’re_  supervising me?”

“Payback’s a bitch.” Dov grinned broadly at the pissed off blonde.

Gail grinned back, the unspoken “well one of us is, anyways” dangling in the air between them for a moment before she tossed him the keys to their cruiser and shouldered her bag. Traffic patrol was the worst detail they got as far as she was concerned, but at least she would be doing it with Dov rather than Sam or some newbie cop she barely knew who would look at her like she was going to go nuts and shoot up the place. She would be very, _very_ happy when her six month probation was finally over. _Only three more weeks_ , she reminded herself.

The combination of suspension and the trail had not been easy. Now that Nick was back she could feel the pull to go back to her old life, to just put the last five months behind her and try and embrace the life she used to want more than anything. The problem was, that Gail didn’t exist anymore. She’d gone the way of the Dodo bird… too trusting, and in the end too stupid, to survive in the real world, where people were assholes and sometimes psychopaths who broke into your friend’s place, drugged you and threatened to slice you open with a scalpel. That was the real world. The Gail she was now was part of that world in a way the old Gail, the one who thought eloping in Vegas was romantic, who believed in true love and.. well not happy endings, but endings that didn’t totally suck, was gone. She wondered if nick would like the new Gail.

Sometimes she looked back on the past three years and wanted to laugh and cry all at once. It was too insane. Two years ago, she was dating Chris Diaz, Mr. Vanilla, and happily dreaming of a future with 2.5 kids, a white picket fence and a big stupid golden retriever puppy… although the order there was probably backwards. Now her dream was to get to the end of the year without a single catastrophic event. My how things had changed.

Of course, not all change was bad. Since Denise suddenly reappeared on the scene with Chris’ baby in tow, she and Dov had grown a lot closer. There was something about having your ex-boyfriend, best friend, suddenly becoming a full time dad with the girl he planned for years to marry that bonded you. Although, now that she thought about it, she and Dov had been bonding slowly ever since they met. From combative contempt to cautious friendship… and then there was that weird time, before Sue, before Crystal (God what a mistake _that_ was), when he had thought he was in love with her… but now they were bonded in the best way, the safest way. He was her best friend, and she thought, some days, when Chris was off doing daddy things, that she might be his too.

He was the only one she told. After the night with Sam she told him she had done something monumentally stupid and he told her that everyone does stupid stuff when they inject tequila straight into their veins. She laughed and it was all going to be okay,. Of course six weeks later she took a test and then nothing was okay.  But he was there for that too. He told her she had options and that he would make an awesome uncle, and then he held her hand all the way to the clinic in Hamilton where she’d asked to go so her mother might not find out. Of course, the reach of the Pecks spanned the whole of southern Ontario, and Elaine had found out anyway, but Dov had been there for that too. He’d sat beside her at a family dinner, and let them all think it was his bastard spawn she’d terminated. The last thing Sam Swarek needed was a Peck as an enemy, and Dov liked Sam and Andy both too well to wish the wrath of Elaine on them. Especially since Gail swore him to secrecy and told him flat out that Sam was never going to know.

Dov had been there. The best quality in a friend. One Nick apparently didn’t have, but he had _other_ qualities, qualities which made Gail heartily glad he was back, and even a little grateful he hadn’t yet found a place to live. She knew they would have to talk eventually, but for the moment, the not talking was just what she needed. She told herself she could just talk to Dov, and then tried to convince herself there was nothing wrong with having a best friend you share your life with and a boyfriend who really exists for sex and arm candy. Most of the time, she didn’t really believe it.

“You want to run the gun or write the tickets?” Dov asked, sliding behind the wheel.

“Gun.” Gail said instantly. Traffic was boring no matter what you did, but at least if she manned the gun she wouldn’t have to deal with the endless stream of idiots who thought they could flirt their way out of a ticket. That part of the job she would leave for Dov… she was pretty sure he secretly enjoyed the female attention, and the occasional brazen male was usually good for a laugh, if only because of how shocked Dov always looked. She wondered if he’d ever heard the rumours that had flown at the academy about just how deep the friendship between Diaz and Epstein really went, and then decided he couldn’t have heard it, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one to let him know about Epaz and Chris-tein was a secret she was taking to the grave, and not only because she may have started that one.

\---

The acrid smell of burnt plastic hung in the air and there was a coppery taste on her tongue not altogether different from the tang of fresh blood. Somehow even looking at the wreck of the exterior, she hadn’t been able to visualize the extent of the damage inside. The place was wrecked. She didn’t imagine she would be able to move back in any time soon. So much for five years in her starter-condo

“According to the report this is the point of ignition…”

Jo’s voice registered as little more than background noise as Andy followed the blonde through the burnt out shell of what used to be her home..

“Can you see here?”

Jo shone her flashlight at the back of the oven and Andy tried to shake herself to attention. She had no idea what it was she was supposed to be looking for. All she saw was a visual reminder of the wreckage that was her entire life. Things with Sam were weird and strained. She was technically homeless, and at this point it looked like she might have to abandon the only career she had ever wanted. Things were looking pretty bleak. Just like the inside of her oven, Andy felt burnt out and empty.

Jo was giving Andy an expectant look, and she realized she hadn’t answered the question. “Sorry, what am I supposed to be looking at?” Andy asked, crouching down so she was at eye level with the open oven.

“Right here,” Jo focused the center of the flashlight beam on a stippled patch at the back of the oven. “Can you see the pattern here? When a fire starts with a flame, we wouldn’t see this.”

“So what are you saying?” Andy rose to her feet.

“It doesn’t add up. According to your statement, you put in the cookies and then didn’t know there was a fire until you smelled smoke. This pattern here tells me something exploded.”

Andy’s eyes widened. “What kind of something?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“Because you still think I did this.” Andy crossed her arms over her chest.

“Give me another suspect.” Jo’s voice was tight with frustration. “Or tell me what on earth you put in your fucking cookies that might explain that,” she pointed to the oven.

“Why don’t you do you fucking job and figure it out yourself?” Andy snarled, stepping so close to Jo she could see the blonde’s hair moving with each breath she took. “I did not do this. I have told you everything I know. So either leave me alone, or arrest me.” With a final glare Andy stepped past Jo, fully prepared to walk all the way back to Sam’s rather than stay one more minute in the detective’s presence.

A firm hand on her arm stopped Andy’s movement and before she knew what was happening Jo pressed her back against the counter, and kissed her.

Jo’s lips were soft and tasted vaguely of strawberries. For an endless moment, Andy let herself be kissed. Her hands rose to brace against Jo’s shoulders, though whether to pull the other woman closer or shove her away she could not have said. Warmth pooled in her belly and a brief image of Jo’s lips on other parts of her body flashed across her brain, sending a sharp jolt of arousal through her. Suddenly, she pushed back, breaking contact. Before she could even think, Andy’s right hand flew up, slapping Jo across the cheek so hard her palm stung, and she turned and ran from the room.  

\---

Sam looked up, his face visibly relaxing in relief when he saw her standing in the doorway. “Where were you?” he asked in a too-casual voice that belied the worry that had begun when he came home to an empty apartment and no note to tell him where she had gone and grown steadily over the two hours that passed before Andy finally walked through the door.

Andy did not want to tell Sam what she had been doing, he would want to know why she had been wandering the streets of Toronto for hours, and she wouldn’t even know where to start. _What the hell was Jo thinking?_  Somehow focusing on the lunacy of Jo’s actions let her forget how her body had curled into Jo’s, wordlessly begging for more than a simple kiss.

“I went to look at my apartment.” She said, closing the distance between them slowly. The omission was easier than a full out lie, and besides, she was pretty sure he could smell the smoke on her. It felt embedded in her nose, like she might never be able to smell anything else. _Clearly, it’s been too long…_

Acting entirely on impulse, Andy unbuttoned her shirt with deft fingers, letting it fall open, leaving only her bra.

Sam swallowed visibly. “Andy…”

Andy reached out one hand and ran it through his hair, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp before straddling his chair and lowering herself into his lap so her breasts were even with his mouth.

“We should talk.” Sam protested, but it was weak. His eyes had already dropped to her cleavage and his hands grasped her hips, holding her securely in place.

Andy took his face between her hands and planted light closed mouth kisses along his jaw. Pausing just before meeting his lips with her own she whispered. “Taking it overrated.”

Sam seemed to agree. His lips claimed hers as he rose from the chair, using his hands to guide her legs around his waist and then supporting her with one hand on her back and the other on her ass, he moved towards the bedroom.

 


	15. One Step Closer

 

“You need to find someone else to take this case.”

Frank looked up, one eyebrow cocked in confusion. Jo Rosati stood before him, her normally calm demeanor gone, and an unusual flush across her cheeks. “And why is that?”

“McNally…” Rosati drew in a sharp breath through her teeth and then exhaled loudly. “McNally doesn’t trust me. She thinks I’m out to get her, and I need her to cooperate if we’re going to find out what the hell really happened in there.”  She gripped the back of the chair across from him, holding it so tightly her knuckles were white. “You need to find someone else.”

“There isn’t anyone else.” Frank said, his voice sharp. “Nash can’t take over, it’s a conflict.” He didn’t mention the new detective HQ had sent over three months ago to take over for Jerry Barber. The new detective, Zaf Qadir, was a solid cop. He was smart and efficient and had the highest closure rate fifteen had ever seen. There was no way he would be willing to hold off charging McNally, or spend weeks chasing down every single unanswered question just in case the obvious suspect was the wrong one. No, there was no one else.

“Then I need Swarek.” Jo said, releasing the back of the chair so she could sink into it. “He was first on the scene, and McNally trusts him.”

“Swarek.” Frank couldn’t find a word that could convey how horrible an idea that was.

“Look, he doesn’t have to sign his name to anything, and I’ll be there the whole time.” Jo leaned forward, her elbows propped on her knees. “If you don’t want McNally and all of fifteen division dragged through the mud in some newspaper before the week is out, I need Swarek.”

Frank weighed the options carefully. Officially, he knew nothing of Swarek and McNally’s relationship except that they hadn’t been in contact in five months. Sam was the responding officer on the case, which meant his name was already on it, and gave them reasonable deniability if anyone questioned the call.  If McNally was innocent, and oh how Frank hoped she was, Swarek would figure it out… or die trying.  Frank had long ago given up trying to figure out those two, or keep them apart.  He held Jo’s eyes for a full minute, looking as unyielding as he could, while her eyes pleaded with him to just give in.

He knew he would, he just wanted to make sure she knew this was a hail Mary and he didn’t feel great about it. Still, she had a point. There was only so long the Toronto press could be kept out of this, and if the press found out fifteen division had held off pressing charges to protect one of their own, Frank and all of fifteen division would come under accusations of corruption that the station did not need. “Fine. But his name goes on _nothing_ , and if he so much as puts a toe over the line he’s off the case.”

“Thank you.” Jo flashed him a quick smile and rose to her feet. “If there’s something to find, we’ll find it.”

“Good.” Frank picked up his pen and turned back to work, but his mind wasn’t totally on the page in front of him. Worry gnawed at his brain. He hoped he hadn’t just made a catastrophic mistake.

For her part, Jo felt nothing but relief. She hadn’t been entirely honest with Frank. She could work with witnesses who didn’t trust her, it was part of the job. What she wasn’t sure she could do was work one on one with McNally without doing something incredibly stupid. _Like kissing her in a burnt out building?_  A snide voice in her head asked. Jo ran an agitated hand across the back of her neck. She needed a drink.

Tomorrow was soon enough to tell Sam he was working with her. She was pretty sure from the number of times she’d seen him looking her way the last few days that he would have no objections to Frank’s strict rules, as long as he got his hands on Andy’s case file.  Jo really couldn’t figure those two out.

Two years ago she had been so sure they were in love, but as far as she knew they still weren’t a couple. She’d learned from bitter experience that most relationships didn’t survive a five month long task force, no matter how perfect they seemed. Then again, she also knew it wasn’t always easy making the first move when the person you liked was your partner.

.

.

** 2005 **

“You are not going to believe this!” Jo burst into the office she shared with her new partner, Luke Callaghan, a cup of coffee in one hand, a stack of photos in the other.

Luke looked up from their case file, his blue eyes bloodshot from too many hours spent starting at the same page waiting for an answer to jump out at him. “What now? Don’t tell me the hair samples we collected are from  the neighbour’s cat.”

Jo rolled her eyes. Ever since the lab had called them up to say that the faint blood trail they had found near the scene was from an animal, probably a raccoon who’d sliced his paw on a can, Luke had been in a terrible mood. This was only their second case together, but already Jo was learning the quirks of her new partner. She set the coffee down in front of him. “Drink.”

He grumbled something that sounded like ‘I already have a mother,’  but he picked up the cup and took a cautious sip.

“Spoiled by milk and two sugars, just how you like it.” Jo said, barely containing a chuckle. Get the man a black Americano one time and suddenly he thinks everything you hand him is poison. Sue her for trying to make a good impression on the sexy blonde man some benevolent god had decided should be her partner.  

Having assured himself the coffee was palatable, Luke drained the cup in three swallows. “Alright, what won’t I believe?”

“Okay, you were right about the hair.” The look on his face was worth the lie. “But it’s a rare Persian, so they figure we should be able to track its owner—“ she petered off into laughter. “Your _face_!”

“Someone was _murdered_ you know.” Luke said sternly, although there was a twinkle in his eye that hadn’t been there before.

Jo rolled her eyes. “Spoil sport.” She handed him the top photo, their fingers brushed and a tingle raced down Jo’s spine. “Look familiar?”

“It’s our crime scene.” Luke gave her a look that suggested he thought she was either sick or mentally deficient.

“Notice anything else?” Jo asked, rolling her lips together to prevent a smile. Any other partner she would come right out and say it, but she couldn’t help toying with Callaghan; she’d never really learned a better way to flirt, not that he seemed to pick up on it.

He turned the photo towards the light, examining every inch closely. “The angle is off.” He said, almost to himself. “Where was this taken from?” He looked up.

“Neighbour across the street is a paranoid whack job.” Jo grinned triumphantly. “Guy has at least six cameras on the outside of his house, keeps ‘em running 24/7 and stores three weeks of backup on his hard drive.”

“Did he…?”

Jo nodded and fished another photo out of the stack of stills she’d printed. “We have a face.”

“You’re right. I don’t believe it.” Luke stared at the photo, his mouth slightly slack. “I know this guy.”

“You—what?” Jo pulled another shot of the killer’s face from the stack of photographs and examined it for anything familiar. 

“Two years ago, got him on a B&E but had to let him go for not enough evidence.” He swivelled to face his computer. “He’s cut his hair, but I’m sure it’s the same guy.” It took a few minutes, but then there was a face on the screen.

Jo held her photo up beside it. The man in the photo was a little older, and the crew cut was a drastic change from the shoulder length locks in the mug shot, but it definitely looked to be the same man. Jo smiled. “Let’s bring him in.”

 

The takedown was a little anti-climactic. Maxwell Hearst, as Jo learned their perp was called, had a day job as a pet store downtown, a job he’d apparently decided to continue working even after killing one of the shop’s customers. Brains he did not have in abundance. They caught him just as he was unlocking the front door to start his shift. He didn’t even try to run.

The whole drive back to the station, he cried like a baby and as soon as they threw him into an interrogation room with a CSU officer to get his prints while they waited for a court appointed lawyer to show up, Jo turned to Luke. “Can I buy you lunch?”

His smile set butterflies churning in her stomach.  “I have some paperwork to get done before the lawyer gets here.”

The butterflies nosedived in disappointment.

But Luke wasn’t done. “How about dinner? at F’Amelia? I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Jo nodded. “Sounds great.” She said in what she hoped was a casual voice, though she knew her cheeks were flushed pink with excitement. She turned towards the kitchen to get them both some more coffee, but Luke’s hand on her shoulder stopped her in her tracks.

“Just so you know, this is a date.”

Even the fact that Maxwell Hearst could only confess by half sentences choked out through his tears and it took them three hours to process him couldn’t dull Jo’s good mood that day. She had a _date_.

.

.

Sam’s alarm woke from the best night of sleep he had had in months. He tried to slap the snooze button, but he couldn’t move, his left arm was pinned under something heavy. Slowly the memory of the night before flooded his brain and a smile spread over his features. _Andy_. He opened his eyes, squinting a little against the morning sun’s brightness. Andy was sprawled next to him, his arm trapped under her torso, their fingers still entwined. He planted a kiss against her shoulder and then, slowly, trying not to wake her, pulled his arm free.  

She shifted, mumbled something he couldn’t quite hear, and buried more firmly into the mattress. Sam pulled the blankets up a little higher on her and then got out of bed. As much as he would have loved spending the entire day, week, month, in bed with her, he had work to do.  He grabbed clean clothes from the drawer and pulled the curtains closed, earning him a “mhank oo” from Andy, and hit the shower.

Twenty five minutes later he was showered, shaved and dressed and there was a pot of coffee brewing. Sam leaned against the counter and scrolled through the messages on his phone. There were two this morning from Jo and he skipped over one from his sister and another from Oliver to read hers first.

You’re with me today. Get in here ASAP

 Sam quickly scrolled to read the next message.

Don’t tell McNally. 

He stared at the phone for a moment. More secrets and lies. Just what they didn’t need. But part of him knew this was probably necessary. At least until he knew what Jo knew, after that he wasn’t keeping anything from Andy unless it was for her own good. He wondered how on earth Jo had convinced Frank this was a good idea, and why. But he was too grateful to wonder for long.

“Andy!” He called in the direction of the bedroom, pouring what coffee had already dripped through into the pot into a travel mug, “I’m going in early. There’s coffee on.” _I love you!_ The words almost escaped, but he bit them off.

Not today. Not right now. It was too soon.

Timing. Regardless of what Andy had told him years ago, timing was not his strong suit. At least not when it came to the woman he loved.

 

Fifteen division was busy when Sam pushed through the glass doors. The night shift was getting ready to go home, the morning shift was just heading out to their cars, and it seemed like every detective, secretary and janitor on staff was doing something in the hallway. It took Sam almost ten minutes to find Rosati.

“There you are.” He snapped when he finally tracked her down. It was funny, he didn’t mind the chaos when he was a part of it, but trying to find someone in the mess was like swimming up stream and the wonderful mood he had been in just half an hour earlier disappeared rapidly.

Jo looked amused, it didn’t help Sam’s mood. “Good morning to you too.”  She picked up a sheaf of papers off the printer. “Come to my office. We’ve got lots to cover.”

She wasn’t kidding. It took the better part of two hours for Sam to make his way through Andy’s file. When he reached the end he closed the file and tossed it on top of Jo’s desk, fighting an urge to throw it against the wall. They really had _nothing_ , at least nothing that didn’t point directly to Andy.

Of one thing he was certain, this was no accident. Someone was setting Andy up. Now he just had to figure out who. 


	16. With You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Andy and Sam finally have a much needed talk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the longest hiatus ever. I really didn't mean to let this story languish on my computer for a year. And I have no excuses. So thank you everyone who has stuck around to keep reading. This chapter is for you guys. :)

 

Sam was long gone by the time Andy’s bleary eyes blinked open.  Things with Sam hadn’t gone as far as she would have liked the night before. They’d made it to the bedroom doorway, Sam’s body pressed tightly against hers so she could feel his heat radiating through the clothing that still separated them in sharp contrast with the cool drywall at her back. His lips had left hers to trail down her throat, his hands roaming over her body as if he doesn’t decide which part of her to caress first and was trying to commit her entire form to memory. She had reached for his belt, wanting more of him, all of him really, as soon as possible. But suddenly he pulled back. He’d captured her hands in his and stepped back until there was at least a foot of air between them.

Andy had tried once to pull him back by their joined hands, but Sam shook his head. “We can’t do this.”

The words were like a bucket of ice. Andy pulled her hands out of his and turned to leave the room but Sam grabbed her arm, arresting her movement.

“We need to talk, Andy. If this is going to work, we need to talk about it.”

Andy clenched her jaw in frustration, but she couldn’t argue with him. Falling into bed was her default mode, and one they had tried before. Letting out her disappointment in a deep sigh she let the gentle pressure of Sam’s hand on her arm draw her to the bed.  She sat down and almost laughed when Sam half sat beside her before rising and leaning against the dresser instead. She could tell by the white-knuckled grip he kept on one of the drawer handles and the black of his dilated eyes that it was costing him at least as much as it was costing her not to just skip this part.

“So…?” She turned sideways on the bed, pulling her knees up to her chest.

“So.” Sam replied awkwardly.

Andy wondered if he had ever had ‘the talk’ with anyone. She tried to think back to past relationships, but she couldn’t remember ever caring about anyone enough in the early days of dating to have needed a talk. Her relationship with Sam was wholly unique. Even Luke, for all she thought she had loved him, had only been a fun fling before he was her boyfriend so there had really been no need to discuss what would happen if it didn’t work out. She had already known that when they didn’t work out they would be able to work side by side without any real trouble because, other than the sex, she wouldn’t really be missing anything.

Sam was her best friend. It felt almost disloyal to Tracy to think it, but it was honest. She wasn’t an easy person to get to know. She wasn’t closed off like Sam, but she wasn’t an open book either. In a way she thought she might even be worse than Sam. At least he didn’t feign openness. She was an expert at looking like an open book without actually having to tell anyone the deepest secrets that defined who she was. Except with Sam. He was the first person at fifteen to know about her mom. Sure, she hadn’t really meant to tell him, he’d eavesdropped on a rather extreme circumstance, but still, he was the only one she had ever wanted to talk about it with. Her dad too was a sore subject most of the time, but when it came down to it, it was Sam she had wanted to tell. Sam she had trusted with Tommy’s wellbeing and her own – even when she’d been in a relationship with Luke.

Which all went to remind her that if things didn’t work with Sam this time she would lose that. She would lose her confidant, the man she trusted most in the world. So, yes, having ‘the talk’ was extremely uncomfortable, but Sam was worth it. She and Sam were worth it.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” She said. She didn’t know if this was how the talk was supposed to go, but she figured an apology wasn’t a bad place to start.

“What are you talking about?” Sam’s brow furrowed. She had already apologized for leaving on assignment without talking to him. He had forgiven her and he thought they were already past that. Clearly Andy either hadn’t accepted his apology. He wasn’t sure what to do with that.

“The night Jerry died,” Andy clarified. “I let you go through that alone. I was so worried about Tracy that I didn’t even stop to think how much it must have hurt you until you wouldn’t answer your phone.” She dropped her eyes, suddenly very interested in memorizing the pattern on his duvet. “I was so selfish. Can you forgive me?”

Sam swallowed a sudden lump in his throat. “There’s nothing to forgive. Of course you were worried about Tracy. I should never have shut you out.”

“You still miss him?”

“Every day.” Sam released the stranglehold he had been keeping on his dresser. The erotic tension that had seemed to crackle in the air between them was gone and he knew there was no longer any risk of him being distracted out of this talk. He just wanted to hold her.

Andy jumped a little in surprise when Sam sat beside her on the bed and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She let her head relax against his shoulder. “We kind of suck at this, don’t we?”

Sam chuckled. “Relationship talks? Yeah, they’re not our strong suit.”

“But the other stuff is pretty great.”

He kissed the top of her head in response. “So was that ‘the talk’?”  

He could feel her shaking her head, her slim shoulders trembled with supressed laughter. “You wish.”

There was a long beat of silence before Andy spoke again. “What do you want Sam?”

_A million dollars, a few fewer white shirts nosing into my business, a beer cellar…_ the glib response immediately bubbled to the surface of his mind, but Sam held his tongue. The question was a serious one, and his answer needed to be serious as well. “You know that park, the one with the giant swings?”

“You want to go play on swings?” Andy asked incredulously.

Sam’s arm tightened reflexively around her shoulders. “No, listen…” he rolled his eyes. “A week ago I walked past that park and there was a woman there with a toddler. She looked just a little bit like you and her kid had this really messy black hair, like untameable, may as well give him a crew cut messy, and for a moment I felt like I was looking at my future, our future, and I couldn’t breathe I missed you so much.” His voice was a barely audible whisper by the end. He could feel a hot flush covering his face. He was such a sap.

Andy couldn’t have spoken even if she knew what to say. There was a tightness in her throat and a burning at the back of her eyes and she was pretty sure anything she tried to say would just come out as a sob. She brought one hand up and threaded her fingers through Sam’s where they wrapped around her shoulder and squeezed.

“I want you, Andy.” Sam continued gruffly. “Whatever that looks like. Kids, if you want them, or no kids. We can collect stray schnauzers and yellow finches if you’d rather.”

His teasing tone brought a smile to Andy’s face. She swallowed twice, hard, and then looked up at him. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears but the wide grin on her face told him immediately that they were tears of happiness. “I love you.” The words were scratchy, but clear.

Sam kissed her softly. “I love you too.”

“There should definitely be kids,” Andy said when they broke apart. “I hate schnauzers, and isn’t loving birds one of those things that means you’re crazy?”

Sam laughed and kissed her softly before rising to his feet. “It’s late,” he said reluctantly extending a hand to help her up.

Andy nodded. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t a little disappointed they weren’t going to sleep together. But if they were going to spend the rest of their lives together she supposed one night wasn’t the end of the world. Besides, now that her anxiety about Sam had faded, the fear she had for the future of her career had free reign. She needed to be a cop almost as much as she needed Sam. There would be plenty of time for sex after they cleared her name.

In the bright light of midmorning Andy thought back regretfully on the night of tossing and turning and unspent sexual energy and knew she couldn’t wait until her name was cleared to jump Sam’s bones. She would go insane. Especially if they stayed under the same roof.

.

.

A suitcase was the first thing Sam saw when he opened his front door. It’s not his and his mind stalled out for a moment as he stood staring at it, the door still open behind him, his keys dangling from his hands. A gust of wind slammed the door behind him, jolting Sam back into reality.

“Sam?” Andy’s voice floated out from the kitchen.

His feet carried him mechanically towards her. His brain was still glued on the small black Samsonite in the entryway. _She’s leaving?_

“Good news,” Andy said without looking up from the salad she was assembling at his kitchen counter. “A tenant in Gail’s building skipped out two months early on the lease so I can move in there tomorrow.”

Sam opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of Rickard’s White, popping the cap off and taking a generous swig before even remembering he only buys this beer for Andy. He drained the rest of the bottle in three gulps, grimacing at the slightly thick texture and fruity taste.

“Sam?” Andy set down the knife and wiped her hands off on her jeans. “What happened?”

“You’re leaving?” The question came out more like an accusation.

Andy rocked back on her heels. “You knew I was looking for a place.” She responded in a similarly combative tone.

“So last night was…?” He let the question dangle, angry implications burning from his eyes.

Andy sucked in a deep breath through her nose. Sometimes she just wanted to strangle him. “Last night was amazing,” she said in the calmest voice she could muster, “but I need my own place, Sam.”

Sam opened the fridge and extracted another beer without breaking eye contact. He had a mulish expression on his face she was used to only seeing at work when one of his superiors was being a dick and he was fighting not to say something that would get him tossed onto traffic duty, or worse, hidden behind a desk, for a month.

“When we move to fast we fuck everything up, remember?”

His expression softened minutely.

“We can’t move too fast this time Sam. I need you, and I _want_ you.” She gave him a small smile and turned back to preparing supper. “And it’s only a three month lease.”

Sam set the beer bottle down softly on the table and closed the distance between them in three steps. He took the knife from her hands and placed it on the counter before framing her face with both hands and capturing her lips in a blistering kiss.

Andy’s hands slide around Sam’s neck, one hand brushing through his messy black hair. She opened her mouth encouraging him to deepen the kiss and didn’t bother to supress a moan when his hands slid down to cup her ass, pulling her pelvis tightly against his.

His lips trailed down her throat and Andy half-heartedly murmured something about dinner being spoiled. Sam responded by sweeping the cutting board, knife and small pile of bagged produce to one side and lifting Andy onto the counter. “We’ll order in.” He growled against her clavicle.

Andy didn’t protest further. Her mouth was too busy gasping for air as Sam pulled open her button down and latched his hot mouth over her left nipple. Her fingers fumbled with the end of his shirt, pulling it up so she could relearn the contours of his torso with her fingertips.   

He released her for a brief moment to throw the shirt aside and push hers completely off and then his hands were on her skin, tracing circles across her back, loosening the clasp of her bra, and teasing the ticklish spot just below her left ribs until she was forced to retaliate by twisting one of his nipples into a hardened peak.

“So that’s how we’re going to do this?” He asked. Lust made his voice rougher than usual and the sound sent a jolt of need to Andy’s groin.

“We are definitely not playing.” She hissed, her fingers setting to work on his fly.

Sam’s lips quirked into an adorable half smile. “Oh really?” He palmed her crotch, deliberately rolling the seam of her jeans over her clit.

Andy’s hips bucked towards him and she let her head fall back. “Fuck, Sam!”

He kissed her roughly but he wasn’t in the mood to take things slow any more than she was and his fingers were soon pulling open her fly so he could force one hand inside. Her jeans kept his hand tight against her. He moved straight past her clit and curled two fingers up inside her. “Fuck, you’re wet.” He rested his forehead against her shoulder, his breath coming quickly as he tried to control his reaction to her body. He thought he could come just hearing the half moaned litany of expletives pouring out of Andy’s mouth and the gentle brush of her hands against his most sensitive parts and she freed him from his pants and briefs.

“When we move fast we fuck everything up, remember.” He whispered against her ear, pulling his hand from her jeans and raising his sopping fingers to his mouth. He held her gaze and stuck them in his mouth, licking her juices off before capturing her mouth in a kiss.

He lifted her up just enough that he could pull her jeans over her hips and ass. She kicked her legs a little to help them fall completely off.  Sam stepped out of his jeans and then picked her up in both arms and transferred her from counter to table. Laying her back he kissed his way down her body. She wanted to go slow. He could do slow.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know that's a bit of a teaser, but I've never really written explicit smut before. Baby steps. I'm sure your imaginations can fill in the rest. :)


	17. Keys to the Kingdom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I posted this chapter and the one after on ff.net ages ago and somehow forgot to cross over. I have only about 3/4 of a chapter left to write and then this fic will be complete! Hopefully I can get my act together and post the rest before the end of the summer, but if you've been following this fic at all you know I'm terrible at updates. :/ Please leave comments, i <3 them!!!!!

Paperwork was the only part of the job Dov didn’t love so he usually left it as long as possible before completing it, which was why he was here, in the evidence room, copying evidence catalogue numbers into his notes as fast as he could and hoping he wouldn’t be late for parade. One of these days he would follow through on the years old resolution to keep better notes in the first place.

The door to the evidence room banged shut and before Dov could step out from between the shelves or clear his throat to announce his presence Nick’s voice cut through the air, sounding angrier than Dov had ever heard him.

“Seriously? You want to do this now?”

“Yes, Nick, we’re doing this now.” Gail’s voice answered him. “I would have loved to not have this conversation at work, but since you haven’t been home in two nights…”

Dov banged his head softly on the shelf in front of him. He did _not_ want to hear this. But he couldn’t bring himself to make his presence known either. So he focused his eyes on anything but trying to see through the boxes of evidence to witness the fight and tried not to listen.

“Home?’ Nick laughed, “Right, because your apartment has been so homey lately.”

 “Oh I’m sorry, Nick. Has it hurt your delicate feelings that I’m taking a little time to get over the fact you _left_ for five months without saying a fucking word to me?”

“I couldn’t—”

“Don’t even try to give me that tired bullshit excuse.” Gail interrupted. “You could have texted. Hell, you could have written ‘see you in April’ on a post it note, that would have been better than just evaporating into thin air.”

“Is that what you were going to do when you left for your European tour?”

Dov could almost feel the force of Gail’s heavy sigh. Even though he was pointedly  not looking at the bickering couple, Dov knew Gail had crossed her arms over her chest and was probably staring fixedly at the floor as if it held the answers to everything. “You mean the trip I talked to you about every day for a week? Yeah, Nick, I was going to just disappear leaving you with no fucking idea what happened to me.”

There was a long pause and for a moment Dov thought they might have left, but then Nick’s voice broke the silence, sounding exhausted and defeated.

“What do you want, Gail?”

 Dov couldn’t even pretend to himself that he wasn’t listening now. He barely dared to breathe as he waited for Gail to respond.

“We’re going to be late,” Gail muttered.

“So we’ll be late. You wanted to have this out, so spill. What do you want from me?”

“Fine. You know what I want from you Nick? Nothing. I want nothing from you.”

“Gail…”

“No. You can crash on my couch until you find a place, but this… whatever this is, it’s over.”

By the time Dov dares to look out from between the shelves he is late for parade, but he barely noticed. There was a sort of buzzing in his brain drowning out the world around him. He should never have heard that fight, but it wasn’t guilt that kept him so preoccupied. It was a sense of almost relief. For the first time in what felt like forever he and Gail Peck were single at the same time. 

Although, doing anything on the very day it happened was probably a terrible idea. Still, Dov couldn’t quite suppress a smile.

.

.

.

The apartment was about half the size of her condo and Andy felt almost deflated with disappointment when she really looked at it for the first time. She didn’t know how she ended up here. How did she become the girl who asked her frenemies for help securing a short term apartment?

“Where do you want your stuff?” Sam’s voice cut straight through Andy’s moment of self-pity.

Yes, this place sucked, but losing her condo wasn’t the only thing that has happened lately and Andy was fully willing to admit that she would go through it all again if it meant she and Sam could always be in this good place. She still couldn’t believe he thought about kids. Even in her most idyllic daydreams she hadn’t ever imagined Sam picturing them as parents. She was pretty much willing to settle for sharing an apartment, and maybe one day a ficus.

“Andy?”

She realized she had been staring at Sam, probably with a goofy grin on her face. “Sorry, you can just toss the suitcase in the bedroom. I’ll deal with it later.”

Sam shrugged and did as she instructed. The Ikea furniture hadn’t arrived yet so the apartment was empty except the cheap TV stand, reading lamp and dining set the previous tenant had left behind. Andy had happily adopted the abandoned furniture. She wasn’t rolling in money, especially with her insurance carrier refusing to process her claim until after the fire was cleared by the investigators. Free stuff was free stuff. Even if the TV stand looked like it would barely support the 22 inch flat screen Sam was lending her from his kitchen.

“Shouldn’t you be at the station already?” Andy asked, looking at her watch. 

Sam swore, kissed her softly and all too briefly, and practically ran from her apartment. Andy’s laughter followed him as far as the emergency staircase. Sam’s own smile lasted until he stepped through the doors of fifteen division and almost ran into a scowling Jo Rosati.

“When exactly were you going to tell me McNally approached the management company? Or was that a secret you and your little girlfriend were going to try and keep to yourselves because you fancy a few conjugal visits?”

Sam gaped at her. Once again the urge to strike her was strong. Instead, he narrowed his eyes and stalked past her, barely supressing the need to slam the door of her office in her face. Once again he found himself wondering what on earth Frank was thinking bringing in Rosati. Most of fifteen division had been discreet enough not to talk about why Callaghan and McNally’s engagement had come to a sudden end, but Sam always assumed that was polite awkwardness rather than ignorance.

“Seriously, Swarek, what the hell were you thinking?” Rosati continued, following him into the office and shutting the door behind them. “If Frank found out he would have no choice but to suspend her pending an investigation.”

“So she’s not allowed to contact her own building’s management company now?” Sam knew it was a flimsy response, but he needed to say something, anything really, that might convince Jo that Andy hadn’t been investigating her own case.

Jo rolled her eyes. “Not when she’s asking for years of back reports on fire safety and inspections.” She nudged a thick yellow folder on her desk. “So, did you two find anything that will save me from going through this monstrosity for the next four hours?”

“I need coffee,” Sam said, buying himself a little time. He ducked out of the office, feeling Jo’s amused eyes on his back.

He pulled out his phone as soon as he was out of her line of sight and hit speed dial 1. Andy picked up on the second ring. Almost before she had said hello he blurted out, “What did you find in the building files?”

“Hello to you too,” she grumbled slightly. He heard the telltale shuffle of papers being moved around for a moment. “The company increased its fire safety checks from one per year to three two years ago after a fire in another building.”

“Another fire?” Sam felt a stir of excitement. It wasn’t much, but if someone else had set Andy’s fire, which he firmly believed, it wasn’t much of a stretch to think that same person might have set previous fires. “Why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

Andy sighed. “I wanted to look into it more. I was going to hit the library today and see if I could pull up any newspaper reports, see if there were any details.”

Sam sighed. “Andy, you gotta let us do this. Anything you find could be inadmissible in court, you know that.”

He could practically hear her grinding her teeth in an effort to stay calm.

“I know it’s hard to sit on the sidelines,” he said in his most comforting voice. “Hopefully you won’t have to do it much longer.”

“Thanks.”

“I gotta get back to it.”

“Okay. See you tonight?”

Sam smiled. “I’ll pick up dinner.”

“Not Chinese.”

 “Pizza it is.”

“Have a good shift. I love you.”

The casual declaration sent a dart of happiness through Sam’s chest so strong he almost couldn’t speak for a moment. “I love you too,” he said softly and then disconnected the call before he was tempted to do or say anything stupid and spoil the moment.

“Good coffee?” Jo asked, pointedly looking at his empty hands before shooting him a knowing grin.

Sam ignored her. “There was another fire, two years ago. After that they stepped up the fire inspections – tripled them.” He said settling into the chair across from her.

Jo’s eyebrows raised in interest. “Arson?”

Sam shrugged. “The insurance paid out, but it’s still possible.”

“Sure,” Jo said, though she didn’t really believe it. Insurance companies had earned their notoriety. She knew they would never have paid out unless they were convinced the fire was accidental, which meant that even if an arsonist had set the fire, the chance of them being able to find that out two years later was pretty slim. Still, even the slimmest lead was better than what they had had before.

.

.

.

Gail wasn’t at the Penny when Dov walked in almost an hour after shift. He seriously needed to get caught up on his paperwork. He wasn’t really surprised, but he was disappointed. Gail had two sad modes: tequila and solitude; Dov had really been hoping for the first, but he thought he could be okay with the latter since he could see Nick’s familiar, broad shouldered frame seated at the bar, listing slightly to the right from one too many beer.

Reminding himself silently that he shouldn’t know that Gail and Nick were having problems, let alone that they had broken up, Dov walked over to the bar and settled onto the stool to Nick’s left.

“Tough shift?” He asked casually, inclining his head towards the nearly empty pitcher and three-quarter full pint glass sitting in front of Nick.

Nick’s voice was too loud and a little slurred. “When did Gail become such a bitch?”

Dov bit back the urge to defend Gail and recapture how he’d felt about her when she first came to fifteen. “You think she’s a bitch now, you should have seen her at the Academy.” He forced a laugh he didn’t feel. Sometimes he still felt like the too eager kid he had been back then, but Gail had grown so much in the last four years it was hard to believe she was the stuck up blonde know-it-all from their class at the Academy or the stone cold bitch of their Rookie year. Sure, she still lacked some pretty basic social skills. If pressed, Dov would probably agree that ‘feral’ was a good epithet. But where she lacked basic niceties she made up in heart and passion and fierce loyalty. Plus, most of her bitchiness was more funny than hurtful.

“So you’re saying it’s my fault.”

The bartender stopped in front of them and Dov wondered how long he’d spaced out thinking about Gail. He ordered a pint and then half turned on his stool so he could look at Nick and asked. “What’s your fault?”

Nick gave him an incredulous look. “The Gail I knew before I left was sweet and fun loving, three months after I deployed you’re telling me she was super-bitch. So pretty much, it’s all my fault.”

“That’s a little narcissistic don’t you think?”

The bartender placed a glass in front of him and cleared Nick’s now empty pitcher before moving off down the bar.

“It’s deductive reasoning.”

Dov rolled his eyes. “You didn’t break Gail.”

Nick snorted his disbelief.

“No,” Dov suddenly felt like just pushing Nick off his stool. How dare he take credit for who Gail was. “You listen to me. Did you pull a total dick move dumping Gail and running off to the army: yeah. But Gail is one of the strongest, most amazing people I have ever known, and that has very little if anything to do with you.”

Nick tilted his head and gave Dov a long, penetrating look. “She got you too, eh?” He chuckled. “Good luck, Dov. Trust me, you need it with her.”

Dov drained half his pint in a single swallow. His mind was racing in tiny little circles trying to figure out if he was hallucinating or whether Nick had just pretty much told him to go for it with Gail and whether acting on the other man’s drunken ramblings would be the stupidest thing he had ever done or the best. “Aren’t you two…?”

Nick shook his head. “It’s been over since before I left for the task force, it just took us some time to admit it.”

 “I’m sorry.” Dov was surprised how genuine the sentiment was. He really was sorry, for Nick at least. From what he knew of their history he thought Gail was probably better off without Nick.

Nick shrugged. “Don’t be. We were never right, it was just easier to be with each other than deal with…” He paused, seeming to lose his train of thought for a moment, “… being alone or going after what we really want.”

Dov followed Nick’s gaze to the couple who had just walked and felt his eyebrows climb into his hairline. “And what is it you really want?” He asked, not really expecting or needing an answer. He recognized the almost pained expression in Nick’s eyes as he watched Andy laugh at something Sam Swarek said, her eyes fixed on his face as if she and Sam were the only two in the world.

Nick didn’t say anything. Instead, he drained the rest of his glass, pulled out a twenty and got to his feet. “Have a good night.” The words were directed to Dov, but he hadn’t yet looked away from Andy and Sam.

“You too.” Dov watched Nick until he exited the Penny and then ordered another pint. This day was too surreal to process without the aid of alcohol. Preferably lots of alcohol. Maybe if he drank enough he could find the courage to tell Gail how he felt.

An hour and nearly a hundred dollars in alcohol later Dov slid into the back seat of a taxi.

“Where to?” The driver asked when Dov didn’t immediately volunteer a destination.

The thought of returning to his empty apartment flitted across Dov’s mind, but he had somewhere better to be. He was in love with Gail Peck, and when you knew you wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone you wanted the rest of your life to start as soon as possible or something like that. He gave an address to the driver and settled back against the worn gray seat with a smile. He was going to sweep her off her feet.

 


	18. Wretches and Kings

It was too bright. Dov groaned and turned his face into the pillow trying to block out the sunlight seeping between the half closed blinds. _Why the fuck didn’t I close those?_ The ill-considered final double whiskey hammered at his temples and he briefly considered calling the station and telling them he was dying, but slowly the night before began to filter into his brain and he knew he couldn’t. Oliver himself had helped him into a cab. There was no way Oliver would ever let him live this down, or keep his mouth shut long enough for Dov to get away with a hangover day.

Another memory surfaced through the pained, sleepy fug that was Dov’s brain and he groaned aloud. He hadn’t… He couldn’t have… Gail would have called her brother and had him thrown in the drunk tank. This was definitely not the drunk tank.

Dov closed his eyes and let his mind relax. _It was only a dream_. A really fucking horrifying dream, but a dream nonetheless. He seriously needed a girlfriend. One who wasn’t Gail. Preferably one who was so diametrically opposite of Gail that she made him forget there ever was an infuriating blonde with exactly the right combination of sass and heart who he had been in love with by varying degrees for almost five years. Yeah… that probably wasn’t ever going to happen. Still, something had to change. Something had to change _quickly_ , before the nightmare he’d had last night became a horrifying reality.

He knew from past experience that all it took for him to fuck everything up was a little bit of mind altering substance and Gail Peck within touching distance.

“Hmmph” The sleepy grumble was followed by a slim hand sliding over Dov’s bare torso, enclosing him in a loose hug before his brain had time to realize he wasn’t alone.

He wasn’t alone, and when his eyes flew open in surprise and he finally took in more than the brilliance of the sunlight he realized this was not his bed. A feeling somewhere in between horror and happiness gripped him and for a moment he could neither breath nor move. _What the fuck happened last night?_ The question echoed around and around his mind, but hard as he tried Dov couldn’t piece it together. The last clear memory he had was of Oliver telling him to take two aspirin and drink a litre of water before bed. There were a few wispy images after that, but he was still clinging firmly to the hope those were all a bad dream.

Slowly, trying not to wake her (he hoped it was a her, the alternative would open up a whole other can of worms Dov was entirely too hung over to think about), Dov tried to extricate himself from the bed and the arm wrapped around him. The arm tightened and Dov felt a warm body press flush against his back. Soft breasts pressed deliciously against his shoulder blades and long hair tickled neck.

Then suddenly the warm body intent on using him as a human teddy bear stiffened. For a moment they were both frozen and then the arm was quickly pulled back and the warm body at his back withdrew, leaving him cold. Slowly, tentatively, knowing what he was going to see and dreading it, Dov turned around.

Gail’s eyes were like saucers. Her mouth was glued shut and her cheeks were flushed. She clutched a sheet to her chest.

Dov opened and shut his mouth several times, but no words would come out. This was not how this was supposed to happen. He was not supposed to get so drunk he forgot what would probably, judging by the mixture of shame and self-loathing on Gail’s face, be the only time he made love to her. He was supposed to woo her so slowly that she thought it was her idea when they finally fell into bed together. He was supposed to be everything Nick and Chris and all the others before were not. He was supposed to be The One.  He wasn’t supposed to be the embarrassing one night stand. It was not supposed to be this way.

“I’ll just… I’ll go…” Dov finally found his voice. Judging by the flicker of relief on Gail’s face he knew he’d said the right thing.

Looking remotely dignified wrapped in a duvet and scrambling around on the floor for clothes you don’t remember discarding is next to impossible. Dov certainly did not feel dignified. He felt like the biggest idiot on the planet. _Say something!_ He commanded his mouth, but there were no words he could think of that would transform this particular nightmare into anything else, so instead he gathered his scattered clothing and clutched them to him as he edged out of the room.

“See you at work?” Dov barely waited for Gail’s acknowledging nod before stepping out of her line of sight and pulling on his clothes as fast as possible. By the clock above her stove he knew he didn’t really have time to go home, he just hoped no one remembered what he was wearing last night. The last thing he or Gail needed was something suspecting he hadn’t made it home.

Calling a goodbye and feeling like the world’s biggest ass, Dov let himself out of the apartment and nearly ran out of the building and down the street. Only when he was three blocks away did he slow to a more reasonable pace.

When he’d said he needed something to change, this was not what he had in mind.

.

.

.

The first time Andy had the dream she didn't think anything of it. She'd seen Nick shirtless enough. And they'd spent that entire week in the van listening to Linkin Park's _A Thousand Suns_ on repeat because neither of them could get enough of it. Dov in handcuffs was a little harder to explain. She hadn't seen him cuffed since their first day at 15 and she'd been a little busy that day trying to get her own cuffs off before anyone else to pay much attention. She also had never seen Dov dance before.. and if her subconscious could be believed, it was for good reasons. He certainly didn't suit a Bollywood style cha cha or the role of tambourine-girl. Though he and Nick did make a beautiful couple.. if you really thought about it.

By now it had merely become a part of her normal sleep pattern. It was kind of comforting, in an odd sort of way. Two of her boys serenading her and looking rather sexy doing it. It was every little girl's dream, right? Maybe not the handcuffs... or the gyrating... but the basic premise of wanting to be pursued made some sense. A therapist would tell her that she was dreaming this because Sam was _Sam_ and far less effusive than she wanted him to be and her career was potentially in tatters.

At least she assumed that was what they would say. She certainly didn't tell anyone about it. That was, until the morning Sam asked her flat out if she and Nick had been sleeping together.

"What? No!" Andy nearly dropped her mug of coffee. "Why would you even ask that?"

"It was five months. Undercover is intense." Sam said, looking a little defensive. "I would understand."

She supposed he would. After all he hadn't been living like a monk while she was undercover. he'd had no problem telling her that he'd fucked Gail Peck while she was gone. As if the confession hadn't been a knife through her heart. She still wasn't quite able to look at Gail without cringing. Even if it had really been just one drunken night as Sam claimed, it was a pretty horrifying mental image. Though, there was some part of her that felt extra satisfaction in fucking Sam in the apartment Gail had helped her acquire. And, besides, she supposed it could be worse, it could have been Jo.

Andy still couldn't believe the detective had the nerve to show her face at fifteen again after everything that had happened with Luke. Even with Luke working out of headquarters it made Andy unspeakably angry. And not just because Jo was at fifteen specifically to prosecute Andy for something she hadn't done. Her second suspension in eighteen months all because she'd forgotten a tray of cookies in the oven! And no one seemed to believe her. Even Sam had told her he would support her, but she could tell he thought there was something she was hiding.

Though, now that she thought about it.. Jo hadn't really been working too hard to prove Andy's guilt. It almost seemed like the blonde woman was trying harder even than Sam to clear Andy's name. When she'd asked Andy about the landlord's last inspection of the smoke detectors Andy had almost believed she might not be to blame for the fire after all. Certainly she'd been a bit of an idiot, leaving cookies in the oven for nearly half an hour... but if Jo's suspicion that the smoke detector was faulty and the stove itself was set up to spread fire like crazy were right... well... Andy might be in the clear. Though she didn't know if her career would survive the dual blow of unbecoming conduct and an arson charge.

She realized she hadn't answered Sam's comments. The silence had become oppressive as her mind wandered. She put down her mug and took Sam's hands in hers. "No. I didn't sleep with Nick."

"Then why do you say his name in your sleep?"

If Andy could have slammed her head into the table hard enough to knock herself unconscious she probably would have. Since she doubted her ability to do it in a single blow, she forced herself to meet Sam's gaze. "It's this ridiculous dream I keep having...."

By the time she had finished Sam was wiping tears of laughter off his face. Clearly the mental image of Dov doing the hokey pokey around Nick while they belted out a little :"When They Come for Me" was too much for even her stoic lover to handle this early in the morning. Andy buried her head in her hands. "I don't know why I keep having this fucking dream."

"Well..." Sam said, when he could speak.

Ten minutes later Andy dumped her now-cold coffee into the sink. "Dov was singing outside her window?"

Sam nodded. "Badly."

"Oh Sweet Jesus!" Andy shook her head. "I knew he had a thing for her.. but... what is this 1985?"

"Apparently." Sam said, looking inexplicably relieved.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I tried.” Sam said, still laughing. “You sleep like the dead.”  

"You would never do that, right?" Andy asked, not sure what she hoped he would say. There was something rather appealing about the idea of Sam serenading her.

"No." Sam said very definitely.

"You're too cool for that." She teased, leaning in for a kiss.

"Oh yeah." He replied when their lips parted. "Way too cool."

It didn't take long for the kiss to turn passionate. Andy slid onto Sam's lap, wrapping her arms around his shoulders as his tongue parted her lips.

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“How is everything going?”

Jo sank into one of the chairs across from Frank’s desk. “I think we have another viable suspect.”

 Frank smiled broadly. “That’s more like it. What can you tell me?”

“I’d rather not get into it too much until we have something more solid to go on. But there have been a couple other fires at buildings owned by the same management company, which looks suspicious. There was also an inspection on the books for three weeks before this fire. If they completed the inspection to company policy they would have replaced McNally’s extinguisher and checked the batteries and wiring in her alarms.”

“But you don’t have any concrete evidence?” Frank sounded defeated.

“It’s circumstantial, but so is the evidence against McNally.” Jo said as if she hadn’t told Sam only days earlier that the circumstantial evidence against McNally was almost ironclad.

“I want her back at work.”

“Give me one day to interview the manager of her building and I’ll hang streamers for her welcome back party.”

Frank smiled. “I can live with that.”

“I’ll keep you updated.” Jo rose to her feet and left his office. She felt good about their new suspect, but Frank was right that it wasn’t quite enough. Sure, a second suspect with similarly weighty evidence might help convince a jury that there was reasonable doubt, but it wouldn’t force the crown to prosecute the management instead of Andy. She needed this interview to go perfectly. Which meant she needed Swarek to stay out of the room.

Swarek was a solid investigator and she had seen him do great things in interrogation, but she also knew that when Andy was involved he lost perspective and got reckless fast. The last think they needed was for that reckless streak to destroy their best hope at gaining some solid proof that something was wrong with the management company.

Scanning the bullpen Jo wasn’t sure it she was relieved or disappointed not to see Swarek. He’d been borderline late the last few days, which she was pretty sure is a sign that regardless of what was happening with her career, Andy McNally was having a better time than Jo.

When Sam appeared, exactly thirty seconds before parade, Jo barely gave him time to get into uniform before pulling him into her office. “I’m interviewing the management today, she said as soon as the door clicked shut behind them. :You will stay behind the glass and watch. If you have something to add or a question you think I should press, you can text me or knock and I will come and speak with you. You will not enter the room under any circumstance. You good with that?”

For a few seconds she thought that he might actually challenge her, but then he nodded.

“Good.” She smiled. “ I told Frank we have a new suspect, so McNally should be back on the roster by the end of the week.”

The slightly mutinous expression on Sam’s face morphed into a genuine smile. “Thanks.”

“Just doing my job.” She shrugged. “Now, let’s go nail this bastard.”

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“Oliver!” Gail called so softly Oliver almost didn’t hear her.

“You whispered, Peck?”

She glared at him for half a second before adopting that sickly sweet smile she reserved for when she really wanted something. “Switch with me?”

Oliver didn’t have much of a poker face but he did his best to hide his surprise. Not only was Gail paired with Dov for the day, far from the most awkward position she could be in, but he was on booking. “You feeling okay?”

The glare returned full force. “Simple question, Oliver. You want to stay here in booking doing paper work all day, or you want to cruise the streets for criminals?”

Oliver snatched the keys from her fingers. “I’ll switch, but you owe me a beer.”

Gail rolled her eyes but didn’t object. She watched Oliver cross the room and slap Dov on the back, saw the quick flickers of surprise, hurt, and relief on Dov’s face. She felt almost guilty, but she just _couldn’t_ spend ten hours in a squad car with Dov. Not while she could still feel his fingers against her skin and hear his groans in her ears. 

Last night was a terrible mistake. She’d come home from work angry and hurt and almost euphoric after breaking up with Nick and then handing out over fifteen speeding tickets to pissed off Torontonians. A bottle of wine and two movies from her Netflix queue later and she was ready for bed. When she’d heard Dov she briefly thought it was the neighbour’s cat but then the wailing had coalesced into words and she’d realized she knew that voice.

The rest was a bit of a blur. She knew she’d gone downstairs to try and shut him up, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember who had kissed who or when she had thought it was an okay idea to bring her obviously plastered drunk best friend up to her apartment. She did remember shoving him down onto the bed when his fingers failing at opening her bra clasp for the third time and stripping off both their clothes in record time.

Gail slumped into the chair in booking and let her head smack down against the desk. Maybe if she hit it hard enough she could erase that entire night from her memory and she and Dov could be friends again.

That was what she wanted. For the past six months Dov had really been her best friend. He’d held her hand (metaphorically, she wouldn’t have tolerated actually hand holding) through the trial and the media storm that followed. He’d literally held her hand sitting in a clinic in Hamilton waiting for a procedure she would never tell another living soul about if she could help it. She loved him. But she wasn’t _in love_ with him. She never had been and she was pretty sure she never would be.

 


	19. Final Masquerade

Nellie Noble, the co-owner of the management company, came in voluntarily, much to Jo’s surprise. Nellie’s partner, and ex-husband, Ricky Owens was less obliging, telling them he was far too busy to come downtown and that if he had to sit next to his ex for five minutes he would probably shoot her. Still, one interview was better than none and if they got a little lucky Nellie might give them enough to justify forcibly bringing Ricky in. At least, that was what Jo told herself as she stirred a single packet of Splenda into her morning coffee. The optimism was unfamiliar and, even though she didn’t really believe her own lies, strangely comforting.

“You’re going to go through those records the insurer sent over?” She asked Sam, more to cut the silence in the break room than because she needed to double check what he would be doing while she took a run at Nellie.

“Yep.” It was more grunt than word and Jo had to consciously stop herself from imagining what he and McNally had to have been up to last night to make him so tired this morning.

“Great.” She snapped a lid on her coffee and headed for the door. Nellie would be there any minute and she wanted to review her notes. This interview had to be the best of her life.

Nellie Noble looked younger than Jo expected. She knew from the background check that Nellie was fifty-two and would have auburn hair and blue eyes, but somehow when she had spoken with her on the phone she had adopted a mental picture of a grey haired woman with an excess of crows feet more fitting with the archaic name. _Seriously, who was named Nellie?_

Nellie was also much more composed than Jo thought she had any right to be. Sure, it was for the best if Nellie had no idea she was a suspect. Jo had a detective’s loathing for lawyers. The more she could get her suspect to talk before the woman realized she needed a legal shield the better.

“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Noble.” Jo smiled and slid into her seat across from Nellie.

“Please, call me Nellie.” The woman leaned slightly forward, resting her elbows on the edge of the table. “I’m happy to do anything I can do to help wrap up this horrible affair.” She sighed, “That poor family on the first floor, you know their dog died from smoke inhalation.”

“I didn’t,” Jo said, suppressing the urge to turn and roll her eyes at Sam through the glass. “That’s terrible. Did you know the family?”

“Oh, heavens no.” Nellie laughed, “I really have nothing to do with the day to day at our buildings. Ricky handled that when we first started and it’s been almost fifteen years now since we hired Manuel to oversee that property. I just can’t imagine how this happened.”

“Well that’s what we’re trying to find out.”

“Of course. You said on the phone that you had a few questions. I’m so sorry Ricky wouldn’t come. Divorce,” She shook her head and sighed heavily, “it’s hardest on the man I think. Ricky took it very badly. I really thought he might do something desperate.” She giggled, as if the thought of a man committing suicide over her was the humorous equivalent of a hamster in a sweater vest. “But of course he didn’t. He did what all men do, bought a bright red sports car and found himself a Kim. Did you talk to Kim? She’s really miles out of his league, but I think he’s convinced her he’s worth millions so... you know how that goes. But he really should have been here…”

She probably would have gone on like that for several more minutes, but Jo had no interest in listening to the details of Nellie’s personal life, or her husband’s, and certainly not the ex-husband’s twenty-something tart of a girlfriend. “You said that you’re not involved in the day to day running of your buildings.”

“No, not for years.”

Jo didn’t let the silence marinate, she didn’t want Nellie to take off on another tangent. At least, not yet. “So what is your role in the company?”

“I’m afraid I don’t really have one at all. When we split eighteen months ago Ricky took over running the financial end of things and Manuel manages the day to day. I used to be in charge of personnel, but we haven’t had much turn over. I think my last hire was Lisette, our office manager. Oh, and Freddie. I hired Freddie… oh, about two and a half years ago.”

“And what does Freddie do?”

“He’s our handyman. Deals with maintenance calls at all of our buildings and keeps the landscaping company honest. He’s a sweet boy, hard worker. It’s really too bad about his parents. Such a tragedy, and so soon after we hired him. Ricky gave him a whole month off with pay. ” Nellie stared into space for a moment; Jo was about to interrupt with another question when she continued. “ I guess he thought it was kind of our fault, with them living in our building. But honestly, the fire inspector said it was a faulty stove. I don’t know how we can be responsible for quality control on an appliance. We have two hundred of those stoves and Ricky replaced every single one after that.”

“Can you tell me more about that fire?”

Before Nellie could answer there was a tap at the glass. Jo shot Sam an annoyed look but she had promised she would hear him out in exchange for him staying out. She smiled politely at Nellie. “I’m just going to step out for a moment. Can I get you anything? Coffee? Water?”

If Nelly thought it was strange that Jo was leaving with her question unanswered she didn’t show it. “Coffee, two sugar. Thank you.”

“Coming right up.”

Sam was waiting outside the door when Jo stepped outside. She motioned with her head and he followed her to the break room, waiting until the door closed behind them to speak.

“The official reports don’t say anything about a faulty stove.” Sam announced without preamble.

Jo abandoned her coffee making. “Nothing?”

Sam opened the folder in his hands and passed her a piece of paper. “See? Right here, it says a rodent probably got into the wiring. No mention of anything suspicious.”

Jo took the paper, running her eyes over the words trying to make them match the half story her brain had been forming while Nellie talked.

“But look at this,” Sam passed her another sheet, this one a photograph. “Look familiar?”

It took a moment before her eyes found what Sam was talking about. The picture was of a kitchen, or what had been a kitchen before fire turned it into something out of a post-apocalyptic film. In the left corner was the stove, and though the angle of the picture wasn’t great, Jo thought she could make out the same striated lines of soot she had shown Andy. “I’m no arson expert…”

“But that’s where it started.” Sam finished for her.

Jo handed the pages back to Sam. “Okay, so we have two fires that started in a similar fashion. What else?”

The smile on Sam’s face dimmed. “We still need our suspect.”

Jo nodded. There was a sinking feeling in her chest. She knew now with absolute certainty that Andy was innocent. But knowing something and being able to prove it was not the same thing. She had already told Frank she had a suspect. But right now she really didn’t know who that suspect should be.

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Andy couldn’t sit still. Sam had texted her two hours ago that he and Jo were interviewing the management company today. He hadn’t said as much, but she knew he was hoping they would learn enough to clear her name. She was too. But two hours of pacing later she was getting worried. What if they were wrong? If the company had nothing to do with the fire they wouldn’t just be back at square one, they would probably have no choice but to take steps towards prosecuting Andy. It was almost a miracle the papers hadn’t gotten wind of the connection between the fire and fifteen division yet. If Jo didn’t tell Frank that Andy was innocent today she was pretty sure her career was over.

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“Here’s your coffee. Thank you for waiting.” Jo handed the warm paper cup to Nellie and resumed her seat.

Nellie turned the cup slowly between her hands. “I’m sorry, I’ve just remembered I have an appointment I really can’t reschedule. Can we continue this interview another day?”

A little flicker of hope started in Jo’s chest. “I just have a couple more questions for you. It really won’t take long.”

Nellie pursed her lips in obvious displeasure but stayed seated.

“You were telling me about the fire two years ago.” Jo prompted.

Nellie took a swig of coffee, grimaced, and set it down on the table. “It was so long ago, I’m afraid I don’t remember much.”

Jo could feel the beginnings of a smile playing at her lips and ruthlessly supressed it. “Well, start at the beginning. Where were you when you learned about it?”

Nellie rose suddenly to her feet. “Really, I do not have time for this. You can call my secretary and she will put you in the books, but I must be going.”

It took Jo only a split second to make the decision. They didn’t really have enough evidence yet, but she knew if she let Nellie walk out of the station she would never voluntarily return. “Nellie Noble, you are being detained on suspicion of arson…”

Behind the glass Sam was torn between punching the air and banging his head against the glass. He couldn't fault her decision. He would have done the same thing. But now they had twenty-four hours to bring enough evidence to convince the crown to prosecute. And all they had was a reluctant witness, a picture of an oven, and a hunch.


End file.
